The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Diggeldy Dan, by Edwin P. Norwood

These tales were first told for the Children’s Page of The Christian Science Monitor , and the author takes this means of acknowledging his appreciation of the arrangement by which he is privileged to republish them.

Had you tiptoed to the very edge of a certain town, on a certain day not so very long ago, you would have come upon a great sprawling cluster of big and little tents. And had you held your breath and walked ever so quietly, you would finally have reached an open space in the very center of the bigger tents, where stood a small white tent that seemed far more interesting than all the rest. Just why it seemed so would have been hard to tell, unless it was because—though there was not so much as a thimbleful of wind astir—a certain spot in its canvas wall kept bulging in and out, after the fashion of a curtain in the 4 breeze. At times, this spot would settle back into place, only to start jiggling a moment later, just as though there were some one inside the tent, clutching at its wall and shaking it, much as a monkey rattles the bars to its cage.

As for the open space between the little white tent and all the bigger circus tents—for the tents were all a part of Spangleland—there was no sign of life. True, there were gayly dressed men scattered about here and there—and women, too. But all were fast asleep. Some lay back in low, canvas chairs strung in a row in the shadow of the tents. Some, with their chins propped in their hands, were perched like pigeons on the tongues of wonderful red and golden wagons; while still others lay at full length on the cool, green grass. The lap of one was covered by a newspaper and that of another held an open book, just as if their owners had grown weary of reading and dozed off to sleep, square in the middle of a sentence.

So there was no sign of life, except the jiggling of the wall of the round, white tent 5 that stood in the center of all the bigger tents.

Meantime the day was fast making ready for bed. Indeed, the sun was just on the point of slipping out of sight behind the very largest of all the bigger tents when, far off in the sky to the west, there appeared—a tiny black speck. And at this the wall of the round white tent began to jiggle more violently than before, while a wee little eye appeared, peeking through a wee little hole in its wall. And, as the wee eye watched, the speck grew in size and then began to describe little curves, as if it were bounding up and down as it came. And, for that matter, so it was. For the speck was a bird on the wing, and it was headed straight for the tents of Spangleland. On it came, until it had reached the very edge of the circus town. And then it began to bound up and down even more than before, and to circle this way and that, as if to make sure of some certain thing of which it alone knew the secret. But it flew more slowly now, so that one might have seen—had any been there to see—that its color was a wondrous blue and of so 6 gorgeous a hue that the red and golden wagons—which were just at that moment struck by the sun’s parting rays—must have felt very much ashamed of themselves.

Finally, as if no longer in doubt, the bird fixed its eyes on the little white tent, and flew straight to the wee hole in its wall. And, as it reached the tent, it began to call, in the softest voice imaginable:

While from behind the wall of the round white tent came the merriest of voices in reply, singing, almost as softly:

“Then,” said the bird, who had by this time perched itself on the nose of one of the little round poles that stuck out near the caves of the round white tent, “come forth at once, sir.”

And at this command the canvas wall of the 7 round white tent was parted by the very hands of the one who had been jiggling it in his impatience to put it aside; and, little by little, as if he feared that those who slept might waken, there appeared the funniest little old man in all the world.

First came his head, all white and smooth and crowned by a queer round hat that came to a point at the top. And his ears were white, too, and so was his face, except for his red, red lips and five curious spots of red—one on his chin, one on his brow, one on each cheek, and one on the tip of his long, funny nose. He wore a collar that was all ruffled and round and a baggy white suit, trimmed with great polka-dot patches, that might have been likened to very red apples, except for the fact that half of them were blue.

“Come, come! Make haste there, Dan—if, indeed, you are Diggeldy Dan,” cried the bird from its perch on the little round pole.

“Quite so, quite so,” chuckled the funny old man. And, suiting himself to his words, he made a quick skip into the open, danced three steps to the left and three to the right, and 8 then, doffing his queer, sugar-loaf hat, made a very grand courtesy in the direction of the bird, saying as he did so:

“Ah, then you know who I am!” exclaimed the one who had come out of the west. “But I must be very sure. So tell me, if you can, what rhymes with this:

“Why,” answered the clown—for you must have guessed that he was a clown—“Why,” he repeated,

But though the bird nodded in approval, as if to say, “Yes, yes, that is correct,” it still seemed reluctant to admit that the man was really Diggeldy Dan. So it put its head first to one side and then to the other, and puckered its very blue brows, as if thinking up some further test. And then it spoke again.

“Diggeldy Dan—if, indeed, you are Diggeldy Dan—who was it told you the last line of the rhyme?”

9 “Why,” answered the clown with great readiness, “it was the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. She came to me in a dream last night—riding her White-White Horse through the skies. She wakened me, or at least I thought she did, by tickling my nose with her slim little whip. She said: ‘To-morrow, after the circus is over and the great crowd has gone home to its supper, and after the people of the circus have had their suppers and are come back to the shady places in and about the big and little tents, to read and to tell their tales and take their ease, they will all fall into a very deep sleep—that is, all but Diggeldy Dan.’”

And, at this, the clown paused to take a much-needed breath; for he had become somewhat excited in telling his story and, to speak the truth, had quite forgotten to breathe between sentences.

“‘As for you, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan,’ continued the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes, ‘you will not go to sleep. Instead, you are to hide in the round white tent that 10 stands in the center of all the bigger tents, and wait for the messenger who will come out of the west.’ And then she told me the rhyme. ‘For to-morrow,’ she said, ‘you’ll have been a clown for a hundred years and a day.’ Yes, that was just what she said: ‘A hundred years and a day.’ And so I have been. But, what of that, my pretty bird? For see! I still can dance as merrily and as lightly as any butterfly that flits o’er the fields in the May!”

As if to prove what he had said, the funny old clown tripped off so very blithely and so very fast that he bumped smack into one of the red and golden wagons that stood in the lee of the round white tent.

“Ah, ha!” said the bird, half to itself, and hardly seeming to notice that the bump into the wagon had sent the clown to the grass on his back, “you will do, Diggeldy Dan; you will do.”

11 And, with that, it flew from its perch at the top of the little round pole, while in a very twinkling, there appeared the most beautiful circus lady one ever laid eyes upon—and with her a White-White Horse right out of the sky. So that, when Dan picked himself up, and, lifting one foot, was just about to finish his dance, his red-red lips fell very far apart and his eyes became almost as large as the polka-dot patches that covered his white, baggy suit. Indeed, he presented so comical an appearance—standing there with one foot in the air, and I staring his visitor most out of countenance—that the Lady leaned forward on her White-White Horse and burst into so merry a laugh that it sounded like all the silver tinkle bells in the world.

“Why,” exclaimed Dan, when he had finally found his voice and put down his foot, “you are the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes!”

“Yes, and the blue bird, too; for it was I, all the while. And now, Diggeldy Dan, if you will be so good as to come with me to the very edge of Spangleland, I will tell you the message from Too-Bo-Tan.”

And so the Pretty Lady and the White-White Horse, with Dan walking by their side, passed slowly along between the big and little tents, speaking not at all, while the clown kept wondering what it was he was so soon to hear.

Now, when the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes had reached the very outer edge of Spangleland, she brought her White-White Horse to a pause. And Diggeldy Dan paused, too. There they stood, forming a picture for all the world like one you must have seen in a story book; only it was much more wonderful than that could ever be. For no artist could ever have quite caught the blue in the Lady’s eyes, or the gold that lay in her hair. For, oddly enough, her yellow curls gleamed, though by this time the twilight had come and the lights of the night begun to blink and to wink, away off in the streets of the town. Then the Pretty Lady began to speak:

“Dan; for now I know you are Diggeldy 13 Dan; what is in this great, white tent that stands so near where we stand?”

“Why,” answered Dan, “there’s monkeys, and lions, and tigers and things, and—”

“Quite so,” the Lady broke in. “It, then, is the tent that we want. Now listen to me with both your funny white ears and with all your two twinkling eyes. For this is the message from Too-Bo-Tan, to all the animals of Spangleland: Beginning on the morrow and on every day ever after, there is to come a wee little hour in the twilight when all the monkeys, and lions, and tigers, and things are to be let out of their cages, allowed to dance and to play and do as they will.”

“But, oh, Pretty Lady, that will not do at all,” burst in Diggeldy Dan. “Their cages are locked, there’s no hour to spare, and—and maybe they’d eat folks up!”

But for answer the Lady only laughed—the laugh that was so like the tinkle bells.

“Have no fear, Diggeldy Dan. All that has been thought out by far wiser heads than yours. You see, it was this way: Ever so long ago, Too-Bo-Tan—who is the very biggest monkey 14 in all the world—called a meeting of all the animals in far-away Jungleland. And, when they had gathered on the highest peak of the mountains, where Too-Bo holds his wonderful court, Too-Bo rose and made this very solemn speech:

“‘It was, as many of you know, the very dearest wish of my honored father, Vargu, that the day might come when something could be done to make easier the lot of our fellow animals who have so nobly sacrificed their freedom and consented to spend their lives in red and golden cages, that the children may have their circus days. Of late, I have had my learned counselors go into this matter very thoroughly, and they have found, but yesterday, written on the face of a great stone in the depths of a certain cave in a certain mountain, this remarkable decree:

“‘“On the day when Diggeldy Dan has been a clown for a hundred years and a day, as a reward for the great joy that he has given little children through all his merry life, he will be granted the privilege of releasing all animals from their cages at every setting of the sun.”

15 “‘And so,’ continued Too-Bo-Tan, looking out from under his bushy eyebrows, ‘this meeting of all the animals has been called that we may discover just who this Diggeldy Dan may be, where he is, and, most important of all, whether he has yet been a clown for a hundred years and a day.’”

“But,” interrupted Dan, as the Pretty Lady reached this point in her story, “I’ve been right here with the circus for ever and ever and ever so long.”

“Of course, you have,” agreed the Lady, “but, you see, Too-Bo-Tan had been so busy with other matters that he didn’t know that you had. But I knew. For I am the Fairy of the Circus—the one who watches over all the riders and all the clowns and all the people of the big and little tents—the one who knows just what each one of them does every single day. And so, when Too-Bo had finished speaking, I jumped to my feet and said that I could find you in no time at all. Then we waited until the hour should come when you had been a clown for a hundred years and a day. And, when it came, I at once called for 16 my White-White Horse and, as you know, came to you through the skies as you slept.

“And now, for the hour grows late and you will soon be needed in the very biggest tent, to laugh and to dance and play all your pranks, let us be quick. To-morrow, at half-past twilight—”

“At half-past twilight,” repeated the Lady. “Which reminds me that I have a watch for you that you may be very sure of the hour—a very precious watch, fashioned from the petals of a great white flower, that never blossoms, except when the twilight comes and then only for a wee, short hour.”

Even as she spoke, the Pretty Lady tugged at a silver thread that lay in the maze of the mane of her White-White Horse. And presently there appeared, from the opposite side of her snowy mount, the queerest-looking watch that ever told time. It was as round as a pancake, but not one-quarter as thick—indeed, it seemed to have no thickness at all.

“This,” said the Lady, as she unhooked the thread, “is the Petal Watch. You are to keep 17 it tucked away in the peak of your round, funny hat. And each evening, just at half-past twilight, it will open and put forth its petals, and then you will know it is time to let loose the monkeys, and tigers, and lions, and things.”

And as Dan, taking the watch, knelt down to fold it away in the crown of his hat, there came a great burst of music from the very biggest of all the bigger tents. At the sound of it the White-White Horse began to prance and then—the Pretty Lady’s curls set flying by the speed of his gallop—was off through the night to the west.

For a moment Diggeldy Dan made as if to follow. Then he turned, and holding his hat very tightly, as if fearing he might lose the watch that was to be so useful on the morrow, he skipped away toward the great tent from whence the music came, singing as he ran.

As the sun sank to rest behind the tents of Spangleland, on the day following the visit of the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes, it paused for a moment—as the sun sometimes will—and shot one last, long, lingering beam toward the little white tent which, as you will remember, played a part in the beginning of this tale. Had you been near at the time—and possessed some knack at riding sun beams—you might have mounted this one and ridden straight through the wee open place that served as a peep-hole for the wee little eye when the blue bird was first seen in the west. For it was through this tiny chink that the sunbeam passed and, having gained entrance, landed plump on the nose of Diggeldy Dan.

19 Indeed, it came so suddenly that the clown—who sat hunched over on the top of a gayly painted box, lost in deep thought—mistook it for a bright yellow bee and tried to brush it aside. And then he saw his mistake and, sitting up very straight, glanced upward to the hole in the wall.

“Oho! Little sunbeam; so you’ve come to remind me!” he cried. “Yes, yes. Now I will put on my hat and wait for the Petal Watch to tell me the time.”

As he did so he noticed that—just as before—all those who were near him were quite fast asleep. And, looking up and then down the inside of the tent, at all the many clowns that had been packed off to Slumberland, and all the queer, colored thingamajigs and all the odd do-dads that clowns always keep near, he waited for a sign from the watch. He did not wait long, for soon he felt something tickling the top of his smooth white head and, removing his hat ever so carefully, there he saw—exactly as the Pretty Lady had promised—the unfolding petals of a wonderful flower.

So, slipping down from the box, he tiptoed in and out through the sleeping forms, passed to the open space between the little white tent and all the bigger tents, picked his way among the gayly dressed men and the women who drowsed in the chairs or lay stretched on the grass and, once clear of them, skipped away as fast as ever his two legs would carry him in the direction of the great tent where lived the monkeys, and tigers, and lions, and things. Reaching its entrance, he spied all the keepers leaning against the poles of the tent. But they, too, were asleep—their chins buried deep on their breasts. Then he advanced to the very center of the vast circle, formed by all the red and golden cages. And, at sight of this funny old clown in the polka-dot suit, there went up such a cry from the animals that, for the moment, Diggeldy Dan was tempted to skip away even faster than he had come. For never had he heard any such shout, which—but for the fact that the people of the circus were in a very deep sleep—must have wakened 21 every one of them. But the keepers slept on, and soon Dan came to realize that the voices were joining in a sort of chant. Putting his head to one side he listened ever so intently; and then a great smile broke over his face. For gradually the chant took form. Yes, it was quite distinct now. The animals were shouting, in almost as many keys as there were voices:

And, looking about from cage to cage, Dan saw that all of the animals were standing, their eyes shining, their faces flushed, their mouths working gleefully in the song that sang his name. Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, the chant ended and all was as quiet as the hush of the twilight.

“Well, well,” began Dan, making four separate bows—one to the north, one to the east, one to the south, and the last to the west—“you seem to know who I am!”

“Of course we do,” answered the mighty chorus. “You’re Dan, Dan, Diggeldy, Dan. We’ve been expecting you the whole day.”

“Never mind the rest,” interrupted Dan. “I might have guessed, without asking. It was the blue bird, of course. So we’ll lose no time in retelling old stories, but get down to business at once.”

And—that he might not be accused of playing favorites, in so far as which animal should be the first to be let out of its cage—the old clown put his feet together, raised himself to the very tips of his toes, shut his eyes very tightly, spun around exactly seven times and then—with his eyes still closed—followed the end of his long, funny nose, until it had brought him to the door of that cage which was nearest it. And, opening the door and his eyes at the very same moment, Diggeldy Dan came face to face with—Lion.

“Lion,” said Dan, as he took one of the big fellow’s paws in both his hands, “I am sure that this nose of mine showed extremely good sense in leading me first of all to your door. 23 And now we will take the cages as they come.”

So Dan, accompanied by Lion, went to the gilded home of Tiger; then the three of them passed on to that occupied by Leopard—and so, on around the great circle, until every single one of the animals had been loosed from its cage. With Dan in the lead, they formed a long, winding line and then—the serpentine entirely complete—moved forward, for all the world like a troupe of children playing at lock step. Round and round they marched, swaying from side to side and singing at the very tops of their voices, with Dan tossing his head from right to left, like the drum-major in a band, and holding out the sides of his baggy white trousers, just as clowns ofttimes do at the circus.

But after the strange procession had paraded three times around the circle, Dan signaled a halt.

“No! No! Let’s do it some more,” pleaded all the animals. And, though he was somewhat out of breath, Dan gave consent and off they all pranced again, making more of a din than before. But, at the farther end of the great 24 tent, the old clown clapped his hands and the long line stopped in its tracks. And doffing his round, funny hat, Dan saw that the Petal Watch was all but closed.

“Quick! Quick! There! Into your cages or we’ll all be caught!” he cried. “Monkey, you will go in last and, meantime, help me close all the doors.”

And, with Dan scurrying about and Monkey running so very fast that he fastened two doors to the old clown’s one, the task was completed in no time at all.

“Now,” said Dan, after Monkey had been tucked away, “I’ll say good-by till to-morrow. And then, at half-past twilight, I’ll come again and we’ll hold a great meeting and lay all manner of plans. In the meantime, remember, not a word to a soul.”

So, swinging his hat as he went, Diggeldy Dan danced down the length of the menagerie tent and then, stopping at the end of it to give a last wave to his friends, disappeared in the depths of the dusk.

On as fine an evening as one might wish for and at exactly seven minutes past half-past twilight by the Petal Watch, Diggeldy Dan stood in the very center of the great menagerie tent, while before him were grouped all the animals of Spangleland.

Coming from their cages and from out their corrals or, like Elephant, Zebra, and Camel, being unhooked from their chains by Monkey and Dan, they had arranged themselves much as one sees them pictured in great atlases or on gayly colored posters, but never, strangely enough, at the circus itself.

In the front row sat Puma, Monkey, Seal, Leopard, Hyena, and Little Black Bear, and all their families. Next in order came Lion, Tiger, Ostrich, Great White Bear, Deer, Emu, Kangaroo, and their families; while, ranged 26 behind these were Elephant, Camel, Hippo, Zebra, and Rhino, and their different cousins and aunts, with Giraffe and his folks still back of them.

There they sat, chattering and laughing and making quite as much of a clatter as people do at the theater, just before the curtain goes up.

“Now,” began Dan, pulling his hands from his pockets and clapping them together for silence, “it seems to me the first thing to do is to get ourselves organized.”

“Yes, yes, that is it,” answered the merry crew. “Let’s do that very thing!”

“We should begin, then,” continued Dan, “by choosing a chairman. Who, say you, shall it be?”

At this all the animals began to talk at once; but, as it was Tiger who seemed to be making the most noise, Dan said he should be the first to speak.

“Diggeldy Dan and fellow animals,” said Tiger, as he gravely stroked his chin with a huge paw, “I rise to name one who, because of the very place that he has long held among us, 27 is especially suited to the office of chairman. One who, because of his great strength, his fairness, and kindly disposition, has long been known as ‘the King of Beasts.’ The one who—as you will remember—was the very first to be loosed from his cage. I, of course, am speaking of—Lion.”

“Hear! Hear!” came from all sides. “Lion, of course! Who else but Lion!”

“Let’s make the choice unanimous,” cried Rhino. And so, somewhat flustered, but by no means lacking in dignity, and escorted by Great White Bear and Little Black Bear, Lion came forward to accept the office to which he had been elected.

“My fellow animals,” he said, “realizing that there is still much to be done, I will be brief. First, let me thank you for the honor you have bestowed upon me and to assure you that I will do my best to serve you. While appreciating Tiger’s kindness in suggesting me for chairman, I cannot but feel that I should differ with him on one point—that is, with reference to the title ‘the King of Beasts.’ That is all very well in Jungleland, perhaps, 28 but here in this great land of the free—with even ourselves set at liberty—I feel that the word ‘king’ should be replaced by ‘president.’ I believe that—”

But here cries of, “That’s right—Why, of course—President of Beasts!” and the like broke in upon the speaker, and the point was carried, even before Lion had finished his argument.

“Now, then, Mr. King—I mean Mr. President,” said Hippo, who had been holding a quiet consultation with the animals nearest him, “it would seem to me that we should elect a secretary before we go any further, so that an exact record may be kept of these meetings and, in due time, sent on to our good friend, Too-Bo-Tan.”

“A very commendable thought, indeed,” assented Lion. “Nominations are, therefore, in order for secretary.”

And, at this, the several animals who had had their heads together with Hippo all jumped to their feet and began to chant:

“I know where there’s an old circus poster with nothing at all on the back,” cried Elephant, as he made off toward the end of the tent.

“And I’ll supply the ink,” said Dan, diving into one of his funny deep pockets and drawing forth a top, some chalk, three marbles, and—last of all—a bottle of very red ink.

And so, almost before one might have said Jack Robinson, there sat Diggeldy Dan astride Hippo’s back with the poster that Elephant had brought spread out before him, the quill that Ostrich had furnished grasped firmly in his hand, writing away for all he was worth, while all the animals crowded around, all talking at once and each trying to remember just exactly what Tiger had said when he had nominated Lion and just what Lion had said when he spoke in reply.

Of course, all this took some little time and, 30 indeed, Dan concluded the first chapter of the interesting document with one eye to his work and the other on the Petal Watch. And, just as he had crossed the very last “t” and dotted the very last “i” the great white flower began to close. At the first sign of it, away scampered all the animals to their cages and corrals while Dan, with the aid of Monkey, having locked all the doors and fastened each chain, scurried off to make ready for the circus, folding the precious poster and tucking it away with the Petal Watch as he ran.

“To-morrow,” answered Lion, from the depths of his cage, while from all parts of the tent came the voices that echoed—“To-morrow—to-morrow—to-morrow.”

Now when the fourth day had turned to twilight and the animals of Spangleland had gathered to continue the meeting that had resulted in the election of Lion as President of Animals and Diggeldy Dan as Secretary, Zebra announced that he had a matter of much importance to bring to their attention.

“It has to do with Giraffe and his folks,” began Zebra, as he bobbed his head and flopped his long, striped ears in the direction of those to whom he referred. “As all of us are aware, neither Giraffe nor any of his ancestors have ever been known to speak. When we consider the great amount of talking many of us ofttimes do without really saying much, I am sometimes of the opinion that our big-eyed 32 brothers show no little wisdom by preserving strict silence. Still I feel that Giraffe and his family should have a voice in our different discussions, if they so desire, and think it only fair that they be consulted as to their wishes.”

While Zebra had been speaking, it was noticed that Giraffe had been all attention and, when Lion from his place in front of all the animals, asked him if he had anything to say, he nodded most positively.

“Very well, then, Giraffe; we will, indeed, be glad to hear from you,” said Lion, as he crossed his paws and leaned back in an attitude of strict attention.

By this time, all the eyes of all the animals were on Giraffe. And so were those of Diggeldy Dan, who sat astride Hippo, the circus poster spread out before him, his pen poised in mid-air, ready to jot down any and all things that might come to pass.

And, as they watched, Giraffe unfolded his long, lanky legs and, for all the world like two boys on two pairs of tall stilts, made his way from the rear of the group and walked around 33 to the side of Diggeldy Dan. Then, bending his mile-long neck, he thrust his nose into the depths of Dan’s pocket.

Even at this moment, Giraffe removed his nose and there, in the tips of his lips, was the top which, as you may remember, the clown had drawn out when he brought forth the bottle of very red ink. Down went the top on the broad back of Hippo and back went Giraffe’s nose in the pocket of Dan. And, this time, the searcher’s ears began to wiggle with delight and his eyes to twinkle with glee. For when his nose next came forth there, held tight in his mouth, was a piece of bright yellow chalk.

At sight of it a puzzled look crossed the faces of all those who watched. It was Lion who first caught the thought.

“Why, of course!” he exclaimed, with a wise nod of his head. “Giraffe proposes to talk with the chalk.”

“With the chalk, to be sure,” agreed Puma, 34 “and I know where there’s a board. The inner side of the strips that close up my cage are all painted black. Come on, Elephant, and we’ll get one right now.”

So away the two of them went, and soon Elephant was holding the board high up in his trunk. And, as he held it in place, Giraffe wrote with the chalk:

“Very thoughtful of you—Thanks—Heartily agree with all done thus far—Giraffe.”

And, putting the chalk alongside the top, he made a low swinging bow with his long spotted neck and hurried off to his place at the rear of the group, amid the shouts and the cheers of his fellows.

While the animals were cheering or telling one another just what each had been thinking when Giraffe was rummaging Dan’s pocket, the old clown’s pen was going “scratch, scratch, scratch” back and forth across the poster.

“And now, Mr. President,” said Dan, as he finished writing and folded up the great sheet of paper, “I suggest that we forget business for a time and engage in a game that I have in mind.”

35 “A fine idea,” agreed Lion as, indeed, did all the rest in one voice; that is, all but Giraffe and his folks. They nodded their approval.

“It’s a game called ‘London Bridge is Falling Down,’” went on Dan. “It was Giraffe’s long neck and Elephant’s trunk that suggested the thought. So now, suppose we begin.”

“Yes, let’s begin,” cried the animals, as they trooped into the circle that ran in front of all the red and gold cages.

“First,” called Dan, “you, Giraffe, and your folks will stand opposite one another, with your noses touching. There! That’s the way. Now, Elephant, you and your family will do the same, only raise your trunks very high and hold them together at the tips—just as if you were shaking hands way up in the air. That’s it. Fine! Now all the rest of us will go skipping down the aisle between you.”

So Dan, taking the lead and calling, “Come on, Tiger! Come on, Lion! Hi there, Hippo,” away they all went, down through the line.

“Now, back again!” shouted Dan, “and this is the song that we’ll sing as we go:

“Say! Hold on a minute!” cried Hippo. “I’m too wide! I can’t get through!”

“I’ll fix that,” shouted Elephant. “Up, now!” he commanded. And at the words, all of Elephant’s folks stood up on their hind legs and Hippo passed through without any trouble at all. So the game went on, with all the animals vowing that they never had had quite so much fun before in all their lives.

But, by this time, the Petal Watch had begun to close; and, at a word from Dan and the promise that he would see them again at half-past twilight on the morrow, the merry band went back to their places. As the old clown passed out of the menagerie tent, he could still hear the voices in the distance, humming the song,

“And that,” finished Diggeldy Dan, “is the story of the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes.”

It was on the fifth day after she of whom Dan spoke had brought him the message from Too-Bo-Tan and, with all the animals of Spangleland gathered about him, the old clown had been telling them of her and the blue bird.

“Yes,” nodded Camel, “she is the Fairy of the Circus. I have heard my father describe her.”

“But I like the other name best,” spoke up Seal. “‘The Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes!’ When my family and I go into the great white tent to perform, we often catch a glimpse of the riders as they pass on their 38 way from the rings. They are much like that—all pretty ladies with mounts like the White-White Horse.”

“But how?” queried Kangaroo. “We’ve no one to send and, even if we had, where in the world should we send him?”

“Well,” answered Dan, “I know this much: and that is that the Pretty Lady went away toward the west. I like to believe that she makes her home in the sunset.”

“Why, if that’s the case, then that’s not far from here,” broke in Elephant.

Even while Elephant was speaking, Giraffe came forward and picked up the chalk. Then, striding to the side of a cage, he scrawled on its face:

“Not far at all—looking through eaves space in tent—this very evening—saw sun set just back of hill—’bout a mile from here—Giraffe.”

“Not more than a mile!” cried Tiger, 39 “Only a mile!” Then he paused and looked rather foolish. For how were they to reach over even a mile.

“I know, I know, I know!” shouted Monkey, dancing up and down. “Balloons, balloons, balloons! That’s the way! That’s the—”

“Hold on there, Monkey,” interrupted Lion. “Not so fast and, for goodness’ sake, don’t get so excited. Besides, I, for one, know of no balloons in this vicinity.”

“No, no, I don’t mean truly big balloons,” explained Monkey. “Wait a minute and I’ll show you!” And away he dashed down the menagerie tent and was back in a twinkling, waving a great cluster of toy balloons over his head.

“Monkey,” admitted Lion, as he took the balloons, “I must confess that your head is ofttimes much longer than mine. Of course, you mean—”

“To write our message, tie it to the balloons and get the east wind to carry it over the hill to the place where Giraffe saw the sun go down,” finished Monkey.

And then the excitement that followed! 40 The writing of the message fell to Diggeldy Dan and, after no end of changes—all, of course, for the better—there appeared these words written on a corner that had been torn from the great circus poster:

The message completed, Diggeldy Dan produced a piece of string from one of his wonderful pockets and, aided by Monkey, tied all the sticks of all the balloons tightly together and then fastened the letter to the tip of the sticks.

“Now, then,” said Lion, “we are ready to let loose the balloons. You, Elephant, take hold of the sticks with your trunk. You, Puma, will leap to the top of your cage and 41 hold open the eaves of the tent with your paws so that Elephant can thrust the balloons through the space and hand them to the wind as it comes out of the east.”

“I can make out the curve of a hill to the west,” called Puma, who had jumped from the ground to the roof of the cage. “Only I can’t get quite high enough to see over the top.”

“I’ll be the lookout,” cried Monkey, “that is, if Giraffe will lend me his head and step over near the eaves of the tent.” And, as Giraffe nodded assent, up the long neck he scampered and was soon perched aloft, holding tight with both hands to Giraffe’s pointed ears.

“All ready,” answered Monkey, “and here comes the east wind around the side of the tent.”

At the very same moment, Elephant gave a great “swish” with his trunk and away went the balloons through the space at the eaves.

42 “There they go!” shouted Monkey. “Up, up, up! Goodness, how they’re sailing! Oh! they’ve caught in a tree! No, they haven’t! Now the east wind has them again! Once more they’re off! They’re going higher and higher! And they’re bound straight for the hill! Yes, straight for the brow of the hill!”

And so, from his perch, Monkey described every inch of the flight until, to the great relief of the animals who were grouped down below, he announced that the balloons had passed over the hill.

Indeed the word came in good time, for just then there followed a quick shout from Dan, crying, “Get back to your places as fast as you can!”

“Now, I’ll bid you good night,” said Diggeldy Dan, when the very last door had been locked. “And to-morrow we’ll learn if we were right when we guessed that the one we have written makes her home in the west.”

Now, had the keepers who slept so soundly at the foot of the big blue poles in the great menagerie tent suddenly wakened at a little after half-past twilight on the evening following that which saw the balloons go sailing over the hill, they no doubt would have rubbed their eyes, pinched themselves and then exclaimed:

But, of course, they did nothing of the kind, for the very good reason that not a single one of them so much as opened one eye. Though, if they had, where do you suppose they would have found all their charges? Away over behind the red and gold cages.

44 Yes, there they stood, side by side in a row, their noses pressed close against the west wall of the tent, looking for all the world like so many “catchers” in a game of hide-and-go-seek. And Diggeldy Dan was there, too. All had found peep-holes in the canvas and through these they peered eagerly in the direction of Sunset House. They were watching for the Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes.

“Every one to his place,” Lion had commanded, when the merry crew had been loosed, but a few moments before. “And then we will see who will be the first to catch a glimpse of the one who will ride out of the west. Not a word from a soul, until she comes into view.”

At first it was fun, but, as the minutes dragged by and no movement was seen, the watchers began to grow restless. Seal started to twist and to turn. Next, Puma’s tail was seen to curl and to wave; while Zebra switched his with quick little jerks. Then Hippo heaved a great sigh that must surely have been heard a whole mile away. Finally, Monkey, who was never known to keep entirely quiet, could stand it no longer.

“Well, what is it?” answered Lion at last, from his place near the middle of the line.

So the watch went on. A minute passed, and another, and another. Then something went, “Bang!”

“I—I was standing on my tail and—and went to sleep,” answered Kangaroo, in a very sheepish voice. “I—I fell down and bumped my head against Rhino’s cage.”

Then Monkey giggled and that set Hyena to laughing until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Lion was obliged to smile though, a moment later, his face took on a very serious look.

“Perhaps we have waited long enough,” he admitted, rather sadly. “I fear something 46 must have happened. What do you think, Diggeldy Dan?”

“I don’t know just what to say, Lion,” answered Dan. “You see, I was quite sure the Pretty Lady made her home in the west. It is all my fault. I am very sorry.”

“There, there,” said Lion, as he placed a paw on the old clown’s shoulder. “Surely, none of us would think of blaming you, Dan.”

“So come,” he called out to the rest, “let us go to the center of the tent; for we will watch no longer to-day.”

Once they knew they might leave their places, the animals were less eager to do so. For they suddenly realized how disappointed they were now that they were not to see the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes.

“Now,” began Lion, after all had been seated, and doing his best to speak gayly, “I suggest that we—”

But what it was Lion had in mind no one ever came to know; for, just at that moment, he was interrupted by a pattering shower of silvery rain! The shimmering flecks fell everywhere, 47 round the animals, on their heads and on their backs.

“Why, they’re spangles!” cried Elephant, who had picked up some of the bits with the tip of his trunk.

“Spangles, sure enough,” agreed Diggeldy Dan, “though I never saw any as bright nor have I ever known spangles to come out of the sky.”

“But they can’t have come from the sky,” reasoned Tiger; “for how could they have passed through the roof of the tent?”

Then, as if to prove Tiger wrong, there came a second and even greater shower than before. This time there were so many spangles that they fairly tinkled as they fell, while mingling with their tinkling was a rippling laugh that sounded like silver bells played all in a row. And, of all marvelous things, the voice came from the depths of the great red and golden home that belonged to Giraffe!

Instantly, all eyes were turned toward the house on the wheels. At the very same 48 moment its doors swung apart and there, framed by the opening, stood the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes!

Even as the animals stared in open-mouthed wonder, their golden-haired visitor threw back her head and laughed until from her eyes came tears, as glistening as the spangles that dotted the ground. Then she stopped quite as suddenly as she had begun, and, putting her left foot behind her and the tip of one finger to the tip of her chin, made so graceful a courtesy that all the animals found themselves trying to do the very same thing, though it must be confessed that some of them made a rather awkward job of it.

As for Diggeldy Dan, he made the very grandest bow that any clown ever made, while, taking his cue from Dan, Lion put one paw to his heart and said in very solemn tones:

“Dear Lady, we one and all bid you welcome, though how you got here we are at an entire loss to know.”

“Why,” answered the Pretty Lady, as she tripped from the doorway to where Lion stood, 49 “I came in under the wall near the end. I went right past your nose, Kangaroo; in fact, I think you were napping.”

“Then,” she continued, “I hid in Giraffe’s house and, after you were seated, began tossing spangles through the window near the top. You see I always carry a bag of them that I may sprinkle the sunset whenever I pass.”

“Just over the hill, where the sky turns to pink. The balloons and the message came in through my window last night.”

“Monkey!” cried Lion reprovingly, for you might have guessed who had spoken.

“Indeed, I did not,” she replied; and with that she gave three quick claps with her hands, while from somewhere in galloped the White-White Horse. And there, clasped to a buckle of his snowy trappings, were the balloons that 50 had gone over the hill. Soon they were taken to where Monkey had found them; but, alas, the next moment the Lady had leaped to her place and was gone down the tent like a shot!

“Oh, please don’t,” wailed Monkey. “I didn’t mean to be rude when I asked about the balloons.”

“I’m not going away,” the Lady laughed back. “I’m just combing my hair, and the mane and the tail of my White-White Horse.”

And around the great circle the two of them sped; then stopped in front of the animals again.

“You see,” said the Lady, as she tossed back her curls, “combs and brushes are so much bother that we never carry them, but just let the rush of the wind take their place. But now that is done, pray tell me why you sent for me and what I’m to do?”

51 “Very well,” nodded the Lady; and, leaning forward on the back of the White-White Horse, with her chin cupped in one hand, she began:

“Many years ago—so very many that there are not enough stripes on Zebra’s sides, nor yet on his ears, to count them—there lived in far-away Jungleland a very wise monkey, named Vargu. In those days the different animals mingled not at all, each being content to keep solely to the company of his very own kind. Now, one day, this monkey named Vargu was seated in the fork of a tree, quite lost in deep thought, when a leopard trotted by underneath. Spying the leopard—”

“But the Watch, the Petal Watch—it’s closing!” answered the clown in despair.

“Goodness, so it is,” echoed the Lady. “But you shall not miss the story, for I will come again on the morrow. With the twilight I’ll come—until then fare you well.”

And with that she was gone like a flash 52 through the dusk, while the animals all hurried back to their places, each wondering what it was they were to hear the next day of the very wise monkey named Vargu.

Hidden away in the folds of that mantle called twilight which, as every one knows, is laid over the earth with every setting of the sun, is a wee little hour that is fairly made for the telling of stories. And to those of Spangleland who know how to find it—though none save they who possess the Petal Watch will ever learn how—there is a very minute which marks the beginning of half-past twilight. And that is the best time of all.

With its coming the blue of the tent-poles seems to grow a shade softer and the great, rope-fretted roof and the lazy, breeze-wafted walls melt from white into gray. It is then that the red and gold cages slyly gleam from their places in the circle they form, and, most 54 wonderful of all, then that every door opens, thanks to good Too-Bo-Tan.

And on this particular evening of which you are to hear, you may be sure that the funny old clown in the polka-dot suit—that’s Diggeldy Dan—and the chattering brown fellow with the twinkling brown eyes—Monkey, of course—had loosed all the animals much faster than ever before. The reason? You’ve guessed it—the promised story from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes.

Hardly had the animals taken their places, when there came the sound of hoof-beats mingling with the laugh that was so like to tinkle bells, and into the circle galloped the White-White Horse, bearing the one for whom they all waited.

“A merry twilight!” she cried, as the two came to a stop in front of the group.

“A merry twilight to you,” answered Lion; and then all the rest added their voices in greeting while Dan, skipping to the side of the White-White Horse, offered his round, pointed hat as a cup to receive the Pretty Lady’s foot that he might assist her to alight. This she 55 accepted as quick as a wink and, tossing her slim, little whip and the bag with the spangles to the broad back of Hippo, made a quick little run and a quick little bound, twitched her toe-tips together just as riders always do at the circus, and then ran straight to the seat in the midst of the animals.

“Now,” said she, “if you will pay the strictest attention, I’ll go on with the story. But, first, who will tell me just how it began?”

At this all the animals talked at one time and there arose such a din that the Pretty Lady put her two hands to her ears in direst despair.

“Order! Order!” shouted Lion. “Gracious, what a racket! Giraffe, since you were the only one who remained silent, you may tell us the first part of the tale.”

So Giraffe took the chalk and, going to the side of his house, wrote these words:

“Many years ago—that time animals mixed with own folks only—wise monkey—Vargu by name—thinking—in tree—Leopard passes underneath—Signed: Giraffe.”

“Exactly,” cried the Lady. “You see, the 56 very wise monkey named Vargu had been sitting there wondering why it was that the different kinds of animals could not be more sociable. So, when the leopard came in sight, what do you suppose Vargu did? A most unheard of and a most daring thing—he spoke to him! Now at first the leopard, whose name was Soft Foot, could not believe his ears, so he kept straight on his way. But Vargu was determined. He spoke once again. And with that, the leopard stopped full in his tracks and gazed at the monkey in utter amazement.

“‘Why, What does this mean!’ he called up to the other. ‘You cannot speak to me. You are a monkey.’

“‘Ah,’ answered Vargu, ‘but I can speak to you even if I am a monkey. And, if you don’t believe it, just listen to this: Hello, Mister Leopard! Hello! Hello! Hello!’ And, with that, he went scampering to the very top of the tree.

“For a moment Soft Foot made as if to spring into the tree. But he finally contented himself with blinking his eyes in a dazed sort of way, and then making off through the maze 57 of the grass, shaking his head as he went. Yet, try as he would, he could not forget what had happened. He thought of it as he was going to sleep and he thought of it when he wakened. Then curiosity got the better of him and the next afternoon found him trotting along beneath the very same tree. And there, as before, sat the monkey called Vargu.

“‘Hi there, Mister Leopard; glad to see you again,’ shouted the monkey from his place up above. ‘Better stop and visit a while. I know a mighty fine story.’

“‘I don’t want to hear it,’ snarled Soft Foot. ‘Besides, as I warned you yesterday, leopards and monkeys can’t speak to one another. Leopards talk to leopards and that’s enough.’ And away he went through the grass.

“Now, that very same night, when all the leopards were gathered together, Great Spot, the biggest of them all, began to tell one of his stories. Some of the baby leopards were interested, but as for Soft Foot, he had heard the tale so many times that he knew it by heart. So, putting his nose between his paws, 58 he lay with his thoughts far away. He was thinking of the monkey who lived in the tree. ‘He wanted to tell me a story,’ mused Soft Foot. ‘I wonder what it was about.’

“And so, though leopards never, never had anything to do with any animals except their very own kind, it somehow happened that the following evening found Soft Foot trotting along under the same tree again.

“There sat the monkey but, to Soft Foot’s surprise, he spoke not a word. So the leopard moved on to the deep grass beyond. But, after a moment, he walked back again. And still the monkey uttered never a sound. For a third time he passed and then Soft Foot could stand the silence no longer.

59 “Now, at this precise moment the monkey called Vargu did a far more daring thing than he had done when he first spoke to Soft Foot. He made a great swing from the branch where he sat and landed plump under his visitor’s nose! With a start of surprise, the leopard crouched back and for a moment he made as if he were going to leap off through the grass. Had he done so, I’m sure I don’t know what might have come of this tale. Indeed, I’m afraid there might have been none to tell. For who knows but what, failing at this very time, Vargu might never have accomplished his plan. But, without so much as moving one inch from the point he had reached on the ground when he swung, he calmly sat down and at once began to count on his toes.

“‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven’ (long breath) ‘eight, nine, ten—Dear me! I wonder if I’m going to have enough,’ exclaimed he to himself, just as if there wasn’t another animal for miles and miles around. Then he picked up his left foot and began to use its toes for counters all over again.

“By this time Soft Foot had quite swallowed his snarl and, if he had been a house-cat instead of a leopard, there is no telling what might have happened to him. For he was simply overcome with curiosity.

“‘Why,’ answered Vargu, looking up, ‘stories, of course. Fifteen, sixteen—’

“‘Do you mean to say you known that many stories?’ demanded the leopard, again interrupting.

“‘Of course I do,’ replied the other, ‘but, since leopards can’t talk to monkeys, you wouldn’t be interested. Nineteen, twenty—’

“‘Of course you are,’ said Vargu as he dropped his foot and ceased counting, ‘and I know that you know a whole lot of tales in which I would be interested. More than that, we both know that all the different kinds of animals know stories that they might tell one another, if they only would; and be a lot happier and a lot more sociable as a result. So, why in the world don’t we all get acquainted and be friends?’

61 “‘Well,’ argued Vargu, ‘what we two can do all the animals can do, if they only will. And I have a plan that I am sure will succeed. What do you say—will you help me?’

“The leopard sat thinking for fully a minute. Then he walked up and down several times beneath the tree.

“‘There’s my paw on it, monkey,’ the other said finally. ‘My name’s Soft Foot.’

“‘Mine’s Vargu,’ the monkey answered gleefully, ‘V-a-r-g-u with the u silent, please. And now suppose we climb into the tree so we can talk undisturbed.’”

Once seated above, each told the other his favorite story and, these being finished, the leopard asked to hear of Vargu’s secret plan.

“‘You shall have it at once,’ the other declared. And with that he sounded a soft, signaling note, while from somewhere appeared a solemn-eyed monkey who was almost the image of Vargu.

“‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Soft Foot admiringly. ‘A mighty fine lad, sure enough.’

“‘Yes,’ agreed Vargu, With some pride in his tone, ‘and, even though I say it who shouldn’t, the very nimblest monkey in all Jungleland. Indeed, that is why I have made 63 Too-Bo a part of the plan. So now, if you’ll both draw as close as ever you can, I’ll tell you what we’re to do.’

“Just what was said, I’m sure I don’t know. But there was no end of whispering, all of which argued that some deep dark plan was afoot that, doubtless, would be made known in good time.

“Now, on the following night,” the Pretty Lady continued, “a very odd thing came to pass. For, from the tops of the trees in many parts of Jungleland, sounded a weird, mournful voice crying these words:

“‘Great rock near the desert’s edge—great rock near the desert’s edge—rock—rock—rock!’

“All the animals heard the strange cry and some sprang into the trees to learn who had made it. But, by the time they had done so, the voice was far, far away, repeating the words like an echo.

“On the very next night, and at the very same hour, the cry came again. With the speed of the wind it passed through the trees, wailing:

64 “‘Great rock near the desert’s edge—watch the hole in its face—hole in its face—face—face—face!’

“Following this second message there was no other topic in all Jungleland. The different families discussed it for hours; but not even the wisdom of Black Mane, the mightiest of all the lions, could solve the riddle. Of course, all knew of the rock—a huge wall of stone with a face as smooth as our own Hippo’s back. Some sent scouts to examine it. All returned with the very same word—there was not a sign of a hole to be found.

“Now, on the third night, the mysterious voice came again. It was here, there—everywhere at once so it seemed. And, as it passed on its way, these words were framed by its cry:

“‘Rock near the desert’s edge—watch the hole in its face at midnight to-night—at midnight to-night—to-night—to-night—to-night!’

“Excitement was everywhere. Jungleland resounded with the cries of animal chiefs, calling their followers about them. And, forming into bands, each separate group began moving toward the great rock. Out of the 65 forests and from the waste places they came—in herds, in troupes and in pairs. But each kind kept to itself and, reaching the ground that stretched from the foot of the cliff, remained as far apart from the others as the width of the plain would allow.

“The moon was on high and there were millions of stars. Yet, though these lighted the side of the rock, there was not a trace of a hole to be seen. Still, it was not yet midnight; so, with eyes fixed on the cliff, the strange gathering awaited some sign. And, on the very minute, it came!

“Yes, something was about to take place. First, every ear heard a deep, muffled sound—like a drum that is played far away. Next, a wee stream of sand began to trickle down the face of the rock; then a rattling of pebbles and still larger stones; while, high up, near the top of the cliff, there gradually appeared an opening as round and as big as Elephant’s foot.

“Not an animal dared breathe! Every eye was alert—every muscle grew tense. Then, from the very heart of the rock and out 66 through the hole, came a voice that was almost like thunder.

“‘We, also,’ called Black Mane, while soon, from all sides, came voices crying the same.

“Now, what the story was about need not concern us just now,” continued the Lady. “But there was a story—and oh, such an interesting one. At times the listeners nudged one another with delight, while the younger animals found themselves exchanging knowing glances with those they had never so much as noticed before. But, as is often the contrary way of those who tell tales, the voice that told this one suddenly stopped at the most exciting point in the story.

67 “‘To-morrow, at midnight,’ roared the face of the cliff. ‘Come then, if you’d hear the end of the tale.’

“Now you may be sure that the following night found all at the foot of the great rock again. They were gathered together a full hour before midnight and some spent the time retelling the story. But not all told it alike, and soon—of all unheard-of things—animals who had never spoken to one another in all their days found themselves appealing to know if this or that were not the way the tale had been told. Even as they debated, there came a roar from the cliff and the unseen one went on with the story. In time it was finished and the great voice was stilled.

“But plead as they would, the voice came no more. And, strangely enough, they never heard it again. They returned to the plain the very next night, but the hole in the great rock had been closed. They waited until long after midnight—but not one single sound came to greet them. Never had there been such a 68 mystery and it was talked of for hours upon hours and days upon days. Time after time the animals came to the great rock and, always, in quest of the voice that was stilled. As they lingered, night after night, in the hope that it might come again, the various animals told their own favorite stories. And then, little by little, the different ones began listening to those that yet others told. This made for friendships and, one memorable night, a certain monkey made bold to suggest that at least once every week some particular animal be selected to tell one story to all. The thought was approved and so, as time passed along, this trysting place came to be known by a name that is loved by every animal in Jungleland. And what, do you suppose, is it called?”

“I’ve heard my grandfather tell of it. But he always finished by saying there were none who ever solved the mystery of the voice that was stilled.”

“No, no one ever did,” said the Lady. 69 “Yet, like so many things that are thought to be mysteries, it was really simple enough.”

“Then, for goodness’ sake, tell us the secret!” cried Monkey, “for I’m just bursting to know.”

“The Watch! The Watch! The Petal Watch!” broke in Diggeldy Dan. “A thousand pardons, Pretty Lady, but it’s almost closed!”

“So it is,” cried she, jumping to her feet. “We’ve not a moment to lose.

“Back to your places, every one of you,” she added, as she bounded to her seat on the White-White Horse, “until half after twilight to-morrow, when I’ll come to tell you the rest.”

And with a hurried “Sleep tight” and a last silvery laugh, she sped away toward her home in the west.

“Well,” said Tiger, as he folded his paws in a most complacent manner, “I’m ready.”

“We, also,” declared Elephant, speaking for his entire family, who, having formed a line, were just at that moment swaying backward and forward quite as if they were about to glide into the graceful maze of a waltz.

“So are all of us,” commented Lion, as he surveyed the great group from his station before it. “I wonder what can be keeping the Pretty Lady?”

“Perhaps the White-White Horse is delayed by the clouds,” suggested Elephant, as he paused long enough to push back the wall near the caves of the tent and peer into the dusk. “I can make out whole crowds of them along 71 the streets of the sky. They have been there all afternoon. It is always that way on market days. Even the sun can scarcely find its way.”

“How long do you suppose it has been since half-past twilight began?” asked Emu of Diggeldy Dan.

“Well, well,” said the clown, as he drew the Petal Watch from the innermost depths of his round, funny hat, “now that’s what I call a question.”

“Let me see,” mused he, setting his head on one side, pursing his very red lips and half shutting his two, twinkling eyes. “I should say—though, mind you, I do not pretend to be exactly correct—I should say it has been not less than five hippo-yawns, nor yet more than two cat-naps.”

“Oh, surely, it must be longer than that,” protested Monkey. “It seems an age to me. I never saw such a watch, anyway. Now, if it had behaved for but a minute more last evening, we should all have known the secret of the Story Time Rock.”

“Monkey, Monkey,” sighed Lion, “I am 72 afraid that you are of that queer set of folks who are ever looking for a clock that will travel both ways at one time.”

“Both ways at one time!” exclaimed Monkey. “Why, who ever spoke of any such thing? I surely did not, for, of course no such clock could possibly be.”

“No, it could not,” answered Lion. “Yet, I repeat, that is what you would like. For, in one breath, you find fault with the Petal Watch because it moved too swiftly last night, and in the next you complain because it travels so slowly to-day.”

“Well, I never stopped to think of it in just that way,” admitted Monkey, as he scratched his head, “and, besides—”

“Besides,” broke in the keen-eared Hyena, “here comes the one for whom we’re all waiting!”

Sure enough there resounded the patter of oncoming hoofs and the next moment into the menagerie tent galloped the White-White Horse, carrying the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. Her pink cheeks made the pinker 73 by the speed of the ride, and her curls blown straight back with the rush of the wind, she drew up in front of the group.

“It was the clouds,” she explained. “There were simply no end of them out shopping to-day, and then any number waited to see the sun go down. Of course, all had to have spangles; and some of the baby clouds wanted two helpings. That all took time, but—here I am at last. See! the Spangle Bag is almost as flat as Elephant’s ear.”

“I’ll be glad to tell you, but, for the present, one thing at a time. Remember, we have not yet solved the mystery of the Story Time Rock. Unless,” she hastened to add, “unless you have guessed the riddle of the voice that was stilled.”

“Not one of us has,” answered Lion, “though we are all convinced that Vargu was pretty much at the bottom of the whole strange affair.”

“He was, sure enough,” assented the Lady, “and this was the way of it: Quite some time 74 before he had made friends with Soft Foot Vargu had discovered an all but hidden cave with an entrance from the top of the cliff. He had explored it repeatedly and so knew its outer wall was almost worn through the face of the rock. Now, as you may have guessed, it was the nimble Too-Bo-Tan who passed through the tops of the trees sending out the strange cry that called all the animals together. Meanwhile, Vargu had taught Soft Foot a wonderful story. Finally, there came the night when all the animals were gathered at the foot of the cliff. And then, taking a stone, Vargu pounded a hole through the wall of the cave to the outer side of the rock. Next, Soft Foot spoke to those on the great plain below; and then he told them the story. Of course, since he was telling it from the hollow depths of the cave, his voice sounded ever so big. And so there was really no mystery at all.

“Having gained his point—that of bringing all the animals together—Vargu gave his time to the meetings that were held on the plain. As the years passed, Too-Bo-Tan succeeded 75 his father and became the favorite among all those who told tales at the Story Time Rock. And finally he came to be a leader among them; and is to this very day.”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Sometime, perhaps. And now, one and all, a merry good night, for I must hurry away to thread my spangle needles and set them in place.”

“Why, what else but needles that catch the spangles,” laughed the Pretty Lady, “which reminds me that I was to tell you about them. Here, Diggeldy Dan, take your place at the head of my White-White Horse, while I explain just how spangles are made.

“You see,” she went on, as Dan skipped to obey, “spangles are really nothing more than dewdrops squeezed out very flat. As for a supply—there’s no end; but to catch them’s a trick requiring no little knack. Now it has been my happy task to gather spangles for the clouds, and for all the glittering hosts of our 76 own Spangleland for ever and ever and ever so long. And this is the best way of all: First, I take a great armful of needles—medium sized moonbeams give the finest results—and thread them with cobwebs. Next, I plant them along the sides of my house directly under the edge of the eaves, with their heads in the ground and their sharp little noses straight up in the air. Now, during the night the dewdrops come to play on the roof and many jump off to the garden below. And, as they do, they land on the points of the moonbeams. Down they come, never minding in the least, for, if there is one thing that a dewdrop would rather be than a dewdrop, it’s a spangle. On and on they come, piling one on the other, becoming very flat, very shiny and very round, and then sliding on to the threads. So, when morning comes, I take the Spangle Bag, ‘snip’ the knots, and let the spangles tumble and tinkle into its depths. And so I always have enough to sprinkle the sunset whenever I pass.”

“Why, that must be the way the rain gets into the clouds!” cried Diggeldy Dan.

“And the reason why spangles always have a wee hole in the middle,” remarked Seal.

“How wonderfully fortunate,” added Zebra. “Otherwise, they couldn’t be sewed.”

“Hold on a moment,” interrupted Lion. “I think I see the point. Let me ask you, Kangaroo: On what are you thinking of sowing the spangles?”

“Why, I mean like when the Pretty Lady sows them on the cloud banks when she rides past,” replied Kangaroo.

And amid the laughter that followed Dan assisted the Pretty Lady to the back of the White-White Horse.

“You’ll come again, some day?” asked Lion, as the golden-haired one waved them a smiling farewell.

“Some day,” she replied. And, giving full rein to her steed, she galloped down the length of the tent. As the White-White Horse nosed his way through the wall, the animals caught a glimpse of the first dartling beams of a far-distant star. The Pretty Lady seemed to regard the beams for a moment, as if trying to make up her mind whether they would quite do for spangle needles. Then the wall closed again and the Lady, the White-White Horse and the star passed from view, while all of the animals hurried back to their places, still discussing the spangles that were made from the dew.

It was but a few evenings following that upon which the Pretty Lady had set out in quest of the spangle needles. Diggeldy Dan had mounted to his place on Hippo’s broad back, and Lion had taken his in front of the group, when the clattering crew made a startling discovery:

Look where they would, he was nowhere to be found; call as they would, he gave no answering sound.

“Scatter at once,” ordered Lion, “and leave no nook unsearched.” And “scatter” they did. Some went into the depths of the cages, others looked underneath, while Giraffe and his family inspected every square inch of the roofs. But not a glimpse did they catch of the runaway pair.

“Redouble the search,” commanded Lion, from his station in the center of the menagerie tent. But scarcely had he spoken when from a distance came the patter and clatter of hurrying hoofs.

“All searchers to the front,” countermanded Lion. “For, if I mistake not the sound, here comes a visitor who will doubtless be willing to lend us her aid.”

Even as he concluded there dashed into view—whom do you suppose? The Pretty Lady and the White-White Horse? Ah! but you are wrong. For it was none other than Zebra, with that mischievous Monkey perched on his back! Down the length of the tent the two of them scurried, traveling lickety-split.

81 “Here! Here!” commanded Lion. “Get back to your places this very minute!”

“Just as soon as we’ve let the wind comb our hair,” came the cry in reply. And the next moment, with Zebra’s ears flopping this way and that, and Monkey doing his best to look entirely at ease, the truants returned to the group.

Zebra wore a bridle with a brilliant red plume, while Monkey was lost almost wholly to view in a gorgeous pink hat and a skirt made of blue.

“Why,” whimpered Monkey, “Zebra and I talked it over and thought it would be fun to play circus. So we stole away to the little tents and borrowed some costumes. Now, don’t scold, Lion. We didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“Hum,” answered Lion, who was really rather pleased with the thought. “Play circus, eh? Well—go ahead; let us see what you two can do.”

82 “Oh,” returned Monkey, brightening up, “but we can’t perform without a ring, and a ringmaster and everything like that—”

“And, of course, we must have music,” added Zebra. “You see we thought that since Elephant and Seal and their folks are such splendid musicians, perhaps they—”

“Delighted, I’m sure,” agreed Elephant, amid his family’s ponderous nods of approval.

“At your service, always,” chimed Seal, as his household clapped their funny front fins in consent.

Of course there was none; so, digging the top from Dan’s pocket, and using his hind feet as a pivot, Giraffe spread his front legs wide apart, reached far out with his neck, and gradually swung around in a great circle While he described an almost perfect ring on the ground by using the spike in the top for a marker.

83 Meanwhile, many willing workers rolled a dozen or more gayly painted “tubs” to the edge of the ring. Then came the band bringing all manner of drums and queer-looking horns, to say nothing of Elephant carrying his mammoth bass viol; after which each player took a seat on one of the tubs and began to “tune up” for the circus.

Needless to say, Diggeldy Dan was the clown, while Lion—wearing an old silk hat that Seal sometimes juggled in the real circus, and armed with a whip that Puma had brought from the great tent beyond—played ringmaster.

“Just watch my two ears for the tempo and time,” said Elephant, who conducted the band. Thus, with the bow of his great fiddle held firmly in his forefoot, and playing notes that fairly boomed with their bigness, he set his ears to beating: “One, two, three; one, two, three,” while the music tripped forth in a soft, swaying waltz. After a few bars had been played, Tiger raised his paw for silence and then stepped gravely to the front of the ring.

84 “Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “I take pleasure in announcing Mademoiselle Monkeyetta, direct from the deepest depths of Jungleland, who, with her marvelous steed, Zebraello, will now astonish you with her wonderful feats of riding.”

At this Seal and his family played a ringing, lingering “ta-ta-a-a-ah” on their horns; the band struck up the liveliest of melodies, while into the ring trotted Zebra with Monkey posed on his back. Close behind came Diggeldy Dan, balancing his round, pointed hat on the tip of his nose.

Around and around went the galloping pair—a maze of black and white stripes surmounted by a higgeldy-piggeldy ball of ruffles of blue, a flopping pink hat, with here and there a brown leg or an arm. At first Monkey did little more than hold fast to Zebra’s short mane. But, gradually becoming used to his steed’s measured stride, the merry-eyed fellow dared to stand on his feet and to dance as they flew round the ring. At this all the 85 animals applauded with glee, while Lion cracked his long whip even more than before.

Faster and faster went Elephant’s ears. Faster and faster went the music, and faster and faster sped Zebra. And then, all of a sudden, this wonderful steed stopped short in his tracks, sending Monkey high over his head!

All leaped to their feet to see the marvelous rider sitting quite in a heap and striving to free his face from the depths of his hat which had been completely switched about by the tumble.

“I say, there! That wasn’t one of the things we planned to do,” sputtered Monkey from inside the bonnet.

“I know it,” admitted Zebra, as he did his best to smother his laughter; “but, as I was going round and round it occurred to me that I would make a far better looking trick mule than a handsome circus horse. And, as trick mules always toss their riders over their ears—why, I just came to a stop, and—there you are.”

“Yes,” assented Monkey, rather ruefully, “here I am.” But, scrambling to his feet and 86 disposing of the bonnet, he caught the twinkle in every eye. And then he, too, burst into a merry laugh.

“Zebra, you were quite right,” he said. “Perhaps we were both taking ourselves a bit too seriously; for, I’m bound to confess, I hardly look like one of the beautiful circus ladies who ride round the rings.”

“Anyway, it all added to the fun,” said Diggeldy Dan. “In fact, Zebra reminded me of a donkey I once rode in a small one-ring circus of the long, long ago.”

“By no means,” answered Dan, “and, indeed, might never have been had I not met Gray Ears, the Elephant.”

“To-morrow I will,” agreed Diggeldy Dan, “for the Petal Watch warns me there is no time to-day. Come, now, Zebra, hurry away with the plume and costume and put them where they belong, while Monkey and I close each door and corral.

87 “At twilight to-morrow,” the clown called again, as Zebra returned and his chain was hooked fast; “then I’ll tell you the tale of a midsummer’s day, away back in the dim, distant past.”

Not in all Spangleland, nor, for that matter, anywhere else, is there to be found quite such a twilight as that which is spun in the great tent that belongs to the “monkeys, and lions, and tigers and things.”

As you must often have noted, there is among the breezes, a certain one that is extremely partial to animals. It is never happier than when ruffling the forelock of some big dapple-gray; teasing the tail of proud chanticleer; or cradling a gull in its wide-spreading arms. Indeed, it is the very “vagrant breeze” of which, doubtless, you have heard many times. But, wherever its fancy may carry it throughout the hours of the day, it always reaches Spangleland just before the sun dips from view. There it seeks out a 89 hiding place on the edge of the town, to watch and to wait. And, at the first sign of eventide, this knowing breeze slips along near the ground, wriggles under the wall, and so comes inside the menagerie tent.

Once within, it frolics this way and that, but so very slyly that even the keenest-eared of the animals can no more detect it than one might hear a butterfly sing. Yet it is here, there, and everywhere, rubbing its nose against the blue of the poles and its back and its sides against the cages of red. In doing this it takes just a bit of the color of both and so clothes itself in a soft, purple coat. Then, when it departs, it leaves the filmy garment behind, and that, you see, is the twilight.

Now, it was just at the moment when this vagrant breeze had cast off its robe that Dan wound his arms around his knees, gazed thoughtfully across the tops of them and started the story of Gray Ears, the Elephant.

“It all began with the beckoning trees,” he said rather slowly. “You see, they kept calling me. I was never far from them. The one-ring circus of which I was a part was so 90 very small that it never ventured into the cities, but contented itself with visiting the smallest of hamlets and villages. So, as we moved from one to the other, our winding wagon train threaded roads that led through the woods. When we pitched our tent, it was often at the very edge of the trees. And always, ever and always, they beckoned me. At times it was as if their topmost branches were swayed by great puffs of wind. At such moments they would bend toward me and then toss themselves back again, as if saying in pantomime:

“And, as often as they called, just that often did I resolve to answer. But, somehow, I seemed never able to find the time. You see, just because it was so very small, the circus needed the help of all of us to put it in place, to give the performances, and then to move on and on. And so I was busy throughout all the day.

“As the summer advanced and the woods grew more green and the shadows more dense, 91 the call came again and again. There were times when I was tempted to let everything go and just skip away to the deep, leafy depths. Now this may seem odd to you—”

“So do we all,” said Lion, a bit wistfully. “Indeed, if it were not for the certain most important reason, I sometimes think we animals might—well, there is no telling what we might do. But, of course, there are the children—”

“The children, to be sure,” agreed Diggeldy Dan. “I thought of them, too. ‘It is all very well for you to dream of running off to the woods, Dan, Dan, Diggeldy Dan,’ I would say to myself, ‘but what of the children that come to the circus to see the clowns? What, yes, what would they say if there wasn’t any clown? Answer me that, Diggeldy Dan.’ And yet, there came a day when all my reasoning went to the winds.

92 “It happened on an afternoon when our tent was pitched between the littlest of towns and the greatest of woods. The crowd had come, the band had begun to play, the circus was in full swing. I was in the ring, jesting with the ringmaster and cutting my cleverest capers. But my thoughts were in the depths of the woods. For I could see the green of the trees through the eaves of the tent and the rugged brown trunks through the half-curtained door. And, oh, how they called me! Not even the mirth of the tow-headed boy who sat in the very front row, nor the forget-me-nots on the bonnet of the little girl just behind him could take the tug from my heart.

“Now on this day, as always, there came the moment when I made a face at the ringmaster while he, on his part, let fly with his whip. And, as was the fashion, I pretended great awe of him and dashed from the ring to escape his advance. This bit of acting I had done whole dozens of times, always scampering as far as the door at the rear of the tent and then coming back to my place. But, just as I reached the curtain on this afternoon, the 93 great wind-puffs began! How the hundreds upon hundreds of branches bent forward; and how they swept backward again! They were beckoning me onward, beckoning as never before!

“And so, without so much as turning my head, I bounded on through the door and ran straight for the trees. As I reached the first of them, there came the voice of the ringmaster bidding me return. Soon other voices, voices great and small and deep and shrill, rose in one clear cry:

“‘Stop, stop!’ pleaded every child and, mingling with their voices, I could hear the guttural bass of the ringmaster’s shout.

“How I ran! Deep, deep into the depths of the boundless woods I sped; and deep, deep into the boundless woods came they who gave chase. Peering back over my shoulder, I could see all the children, and all their fathers 94 and mothers and uncles and even their aunts coming pell-mell in pursuit, all led by the ringmaster in his shiny top hat and shiny top boots.

“And so I pressed on. Indeed, I could not stop. The leaves underfoot seemed in league with those overhead. They pushed against the soles of my feet, sending me forward by leaps and by bounds. But, fast as I ran, those who came after proved even swifter than I. Looking back once again, I could see the ringmaster had redoubled his speed. On he came, the split tails of his coat sticking straight out behind, while, clinging tight to the ends of them were the tow-headed boy and the little girl with the forget-me-not bonnet!

“I was glad they were gaining on me; and yet I was sorry. I wanted them to catch me, and yet I did not. Meanwhile, I ran like the wind. But they came nearer and nearer. Now the ringmaster was so close that I could make out the tiger-eye buttons on his very red vest.

95 “A hundred paces ahead showed the shadowy outline of a densely leafed thicket. For this cover I sped and, rounding its shoulder, shut my pursuers from view. And then, just as I did so, something came from out the air, swept me square off my toes, swung me outward and aloft and then dropped me into the depths of the thicket!

“As I scrambled to my feet I could hear the clamoring cries and glimpse the hurrying forms of the throng as they swept around the corner of the coppice that covered me. There were children of all ages and sizes, with many curls and many hair-ribbons held out on the lap of the wind. And there were no end of mothers with very bright eyes and very pink cheeks, hand in hand with no end of fathers. And some carried umbrellas which they brandished overhead as they ran.

“But suddenly there came a halt. For a puzzled half-minute the ringmaster stood looking first to the left and next to the right. Then, as if making up his mind that I had 96 gone toward the north, he cut the air with his whip, thrust it forward like a captain leading his troops on to victory, and cried:

“Instantly all the fathers pointed aloft in exactly the same manner, and away went the throng, raising more of a cry than before.

“At this I would have recalled them. But no sooner had I opened my mouth to do so than there came a warning ‘S-s-s-sh’ so tremendous that it fairly blew the hat off my head. And, looking to the left and to the right, I saw that I was standing between two great mud-colored posts, roofed in with a chin and the undermost side of a monstrous mouth overhung with a nose that came halfway to the ground!

“And, meanwhile, the voices of those who had left me behind grew fainter and fainter and 97 fainter, until, finally, I could hear them no more.

“‘Now, then,’ said the mouth, as the posts, which were really two legs, drew apart; and the nose, more correctly a trunk, reached back and lifted me to a place in the light, ‘now you may make as much noise as you please.’

“And, looking up, I found myself gazing into the good-humored face of an elephant of marvelous size.”

“At first my captor merely appealed to me as the merriest-eyed elephant I had ever seen—and surely the largest. But I soon discovered that he had a way of going about matters in a most business-like manner. Thus he immediately began to plan for the two of us.

“‘Now, then,’ said he, ‘we will leave this rather public place and go to my private apartment. So if you will just hop to the top of my third toe—yes, the right foot will do—and place your arm about my knee—ah! that is the way—we will proceed.’

“And so, I clinging tightly to the big fellow’s leg—a great deal as children sometimes do when they are very small and father’s foot is to be persuaded to give them a ride—we started on our way, the whole of me moving 99 quite like a walking stick when it accompanies its master on a leisurely stroll through the park. On through thicket, grove and tangled foliage we went, and then, quite of a moment, passed between two giant trees which formed the natural doorway leading into a half-inclosed room of the woods. I call it a room because it possessed the entrance just mentioned, a floor entirely free from undergrowth, a raggedy west window outlined with boughs, and a wide-spreading roof fashioned by a gigantic vine.

“Two logs with branches broken off near the trunks, a flat-topped stump of considerable size, and a curious hanging basket affair formed by a lacing of vine loops completed the furnishings. On the floor was a pile of freshly plucked leaves.

“‘You will really have to forgive the appearance of things,’ apologized my host. ‘You see I was at lunch when I heard the shouts and so jumped right up from the table and made my way to the thicket. Besides, I moved in only last night. Nothing fancy, I’ll admit; but comfortable. I was rather taken with the 100 rustic furniture—so in keeping with a place of this kind, don’t you think? But do sit down!’

“And, motioning me to accept one of the logs while he took the other, the big fellow swung one foot into the basket-like contrivance of which I have spoken, leaned back in an attitude of perfect contentment and rumbled something about ‘his idea of solid comfort.’ Then, noting that my eye was upon the queer-looking swing that supported his foot, he added:

“‘Ah, I see you are interested in this little invention of mine. A combination hammock and provider, if you please. Hammock for the reason you already see; provider because—’

“And at that he set the foot that lay in the loops of the vine to pumping so hard that the whole of the roof began to rock as if shaken by some mighty wind. Scores upon scores of leaves soon carpeted the floor. These the ponderous fellow swept together with the tip of his trunk without so much as leaving his seat, and then added them to the half-eaten pile I had noticed.

“‘A rather clever idea, I should say,’ said he, with some show of pride, ‘that is, if one 101 doesn’t mind eating the shingles off one’s own house. Of course, you see the point: roof, shingles—leaves. Ha! Ha! I thought you would.’ And with that he laughed as though he had made quite the best joke in all the world. But in another moment, he had dropped into silence only to break it again to inquire my name.

“‘Gray Ears, the Elephant,’ he answered as his look suddenly changed to one of great soberness. ‘Not just Gray Ears, mind you, nor yet merely Elephant, but “Gray Ears, the Elephant.” In fact, it is what one might call a whole sentence of a name. However, aside from the fact that it does not well lend itself to being nicknamed, I cannot say much for it. For, in the first place—just as there are two sides to every story so are there to every ear. And the under side of an elephant’s ear is ofttimes a rare pink and frequently as speckled as the nether part of a trout. As for the phrase, “the Elephant,” it is absolutely and positively silly. For, to look at me, you would not suppose me a bumblebee, nor yet a 102 bobolink, now would you? Still, such is my name and I make the most of it. But, to change the tune of our talk, tell me: Whence have you come and why did you run away from the circus?’

“Answering, I told him my story and ended by adding that had he not prevented I should have shouted most lustily and so called back those who, doubtless, were still in pursuit of me.

“‘For,’ said I, ‘it was quite wrong of me to have run away in the first place.’

“‘Yes, in a way,’ assented Gray Ears, ‘but, on the other hand, I am sure the children, the grown-ups, and even the ringmaster will enjoy their lark in the woods even though they return without you. Thus no inconvenience has come to them, you will go back to your place in the late evening and, in the meantime, perform a most charitable act by lending me your merry company for a few hours. For, to be perfectly frank, I, too, am a runaway and a rather lonesome one.’

“‘A circus elephant,’ finished Gray Ears. 103 ‘None other than the mightiest and most marvelous of all pachyderms and easily the leading feature of the mammoth menagerie of the Very Biggest Circus.’

“And he voiced these mile-long words with so much impressiveness that had he worn a waistcoat I am sure he would have thrust his thumb-toes into the armholes of it.

“Here was an adventure! A meeting with one who came from the great, great circus of which I, who had ever been with the smallest, had heard and dreamed of, yet never seen!

“‘My dear fellow,’ returned Gray Ears as he waved in the direction of the very tallest trees, ‘do you suppose that you are the only one who feels the call? Besides, I had been told that a specially interesting variety of the pistache de terre was to be found in this part of the woods. So I laid my plans and, While we were at the railroad yards? last night awaiting our turn to go into our cars, I walked softly away along the shadowy places, kept to the back streets of the town and so 104 finally reached the open country. But as to the earth-nut that is said to be found hereabouts, a whole morning’s search has failed to discover even a single vine.

“‘You see,’ he continued, with a great show of-vanity, ‘I have the largest collection of the pistache de terre in existence.’ And spreading his toes apart, two at a time, and burrowing into the openings with the tip of his trunk, he began to take something from each. And then, what do you suppose he finally laid in a heap on the top of the tree stump?”

“Peanuts!” answered Diggeldy Dan. “Just ordinary, everyday, circus peanuts. And after all those long words, too! At least, that was What they looked like to me. And so, never thinking, I blurted, ‘Oh, peanuts!’ (no doubt with a look of disappointment, for I had expected something quite wonderful) and then added, ‘No thank you; I don’t believe I care for any just now. But don’t let that keep you from having some.’

“‘Having some!’ repeated my companion, 105 as if unable to believe his ears, large as they were. ‘Having some!’ he fairly shouted again in horrified tones. And then, looking at me in the most pitying manner he added, ‘Why, Friend Clown, do you not suppose there are elephants who look upon the peanut as something more than a thing to be eaten? That there are those of us who study them?—for what happier hobby could a circus elephant have than that which calls for the collecting of this most excellent nut!

“‘Consider this one, for instance,’ continued Gray Ears, as he held one of the peanuts up to the light. ‘That is the true goober. See with what a delicate sweep it curves in at the waist line. Here, on the other hand, is a quite different nut—the pindar that comes from the islands. A sailor brought it to the circus one day. To you, and to him, it is merely a peanut. But to the trained eye there is a warm, yellow tint in its wrinkled face and a certain sweep to its curves that place it far from its various cousins. So, during my travels, thousands upon thousands of nuts have passed under my eyes and, from them, I 106 have made this collection of exactly seventeen different ones.’

“And so he passed from one peanut to another, pointing out the beauties of each,” went on Diggeldy Dan, “and was just explaining that the word peanut was unknown to the children of some lands, while ‘monkey-nut’ served for a name instead, when, suddenly stopping short and gathering his brows into three immensely deep puckers, he fixed his attention upon something away toward the west.

“Following his gaze, I saw a bloodred blotch that fairly flamed far off through the trees.

“‘Fire!’ we both cried, as if in one breath; and then Gray Ears began to laugh at the thought.

“‘Goodness me, so it is!’ I exclaimed. ‘I had no idea it was so late. I hope you will not think me rude, but, really I must go at once.’

“‘Of course you must,’ the big fellow agreed, 107 as he led the way from the room. ‘I fear I have delayed you too long as it is. But never doubt, I’ll have you back at the edge of the littlest town in but a little while more than no time at all. Come—on to my third toe! Hold fast—there! We’re off!’

“And with his trunk rolled into position while I clung with both arms to his leg, Gray Ears started forward with such amazing strides that, had I not been standing on one of his feet, I would surely have thought that he had suddenly been shod with seven-league boots. Away we crashed, making straight for the heart of the sunset. Onward we—”

“Closing, sure enough,” rejoined Diggeldy Dan and a minute later he was skipping away down the menagerie tent, calling a good night to his friends and assuring them he would be back on the morrow and tell them still more of the tale.

“Never, I’ll warrant you, had the greatest of woods resounded with so strange a commotion,” continued Diggeldy Dan, as he again took up the thread of his story. “Never, I’ll make bold to surmise, had so singular a carry-all with such a gayly dressed passenger boomed through the quiet of its sunset hour. For what could have proved more of a surprise to those peaceful surroundings than the approach of an elephant most as big as a house, coming onward with strides as wide as a wall, and a clown clinging fast to one foot!

“Yet, forward we crashed and we plunged, making straight for the littlest town. Far ahead the tree trunks and the low-hanging boughs showed blue-black against the russet 109 and red of the sky that windowed the woods to the west. And from this very same spot sprang long, fan-like rays with edges of silver and edges of gold, travelling to meet us and bathing all that they passed in soft, yellow light. Straight for this light the two of us lunged—smashingly, dashingly onward—shaking the ground and the glades as we went: bound for the edge of the town. Now we came to the top of a leaf-covered slope that played floor to an open space lined on both sides with trees. And there, at the end, was the fast sinking sun, while smack up against its ruby-red face stood the spire of a church in the town.

“At sight of the steeple we slackened our pace, veered a bit to the left, and—in a half-minute more—reached the fringe of the trees for which I had sped when I first took flight to the woods. Another stride and Gray Ears had thrust his huge head through a rift in the foliage, and we looked out over the field. And then I made a most startling discovery.

“Thinking I might have mistaken the spot, 110 I sprang from my place to the ground. But, alas! there were the holes that had once held the stakes, and the tracks and the scars left by the red wagon wheels to prove what I feared to be only too true.

“As I stood there, sadly surveying the spot, Gray Ears strode across to my side.

“‘They have gone,’ I said to him, sadly, ‘gone on, leaving Diggeldy Dan.’

“‘Gone, to be sure,’ he agreed, ‘but tush, tush—what a queer tone of voice. And whoever heard of a clown with a mouth that turned down! So cheer up, for doubtless it is all for the best. And in the meantime let us again seek the trees, for I think I heard someone approaching.’

“True enough, as we slipped out of sight three figures came toward us along a path that skirted the field. And, there walking hand in hand with a big, broad-shouldered man, were the tow-headed boy and the little girl with the forget-me-not bonnet.

“‘Of course, they’ll get another one, won’t they, Uncle Tommy-Tom?’ the little girl was asking as they came within hearing.

“‘Well, I’m not certain,’ replied the one called Uncle Tommy-Tom, ‘but I saw the ringmaster getting a gayly colored suit from out a big trunk just after we had returned from the chase. And there was a man fussing with an odd-looking wig and mixing some red and white paint. Then I heard the two of them talking, and the man with the paint said he’d have everything in shape by the time they reached the next town.’

“‘Oh, then, of course, they were getting ready to make a new clown,’ spoke up the tow-headed boy in a most knowing and positive fashion.

“‘Why, up, to be sure,’ answered the boy. ‘Clowns are always made up, though I can’t tell you up where ’cause the piece I read didn’t say.’

“And so, still talking, the three of them melted away in the gathering dusk. Even as 112 I stood gazing down the path they had taken, I felt my companion’s trunk on my shoulder.

“‘Come, come, Friend Dan, there’s nothing to be gained by tarrying here. Besides, I have already put my wits back to work and hit upon a plan by which even now you are as good as engaged as a clown with the Very Biggest Circus.

“‘No, not a word,’ was his warning command, as I sought to ply him with questions. ‘For I have not yet completed the whole of my scheme. Besides, our first thought must be of a lodging place for the night. So—your arms round my leg once again.’

“Obeying, I mounted the big fellow’s foot and we plunged back into the depths of the woods. Presently we came to a space well covered with grass and here we made ready for bed. Hollowing a hole for the bumpy part of his head, Gray Ears was soon stretched out on his side, while I, using the curve of his trunk for a pillow, snugly bunked in the lee of his ponderous front knees.

“Twice I sought to speak of the plan he had named and twice did my companion bid me be 113 silent. And so, lying there gazing upward through the canopy of boughs to the patches of star-sprinkled sky, I pictured the future that unfolded before me.

“The night was balmy and there were sweet-smelling flowers near my head. Gray Ears’ trunk made a most comfortable cushion, and close by a cricket sang. So, in spite of my musings, I was soon ready for sleep. Indeed, I rather resented being suddenly roused and told to make ready for another march through the woods. Still, I obeyed, and in what seemed even less than a twinkling, found myself in a tent of marvelous size. In it were simply whole battalions of clowns and, most wonderful of all, a fireplace quite as big as the side of our own Hippo’s cage. Then from somewhere there dangled dozens upon dozens of mile-long vine branches, and taking hold of the ends of them the clowns began to bind some one fast to the ground. Even as I looked I saw that the ‘some one’ was Gray Ears. Yes, the strange clowns were making the big fellow a prisoner, and, prying his great toes apart, were extracting the peanuts one at a time! 114 As fast as the nuts were removed they were taken to the front of the fireplace. In vain did their owner protest. All were to be burned on the spot.

“Finally the first of the peanuts was pushed to the edge of the fire. In a moment I recognized it as my friend’s favorite nut—the delicately colored pindar that had come from the islands. And crying, ‘No! No! Not that one!’ I bounded straight for the hearth, bent upon rolling the nut from the flames. The heat was intense. I could feel its hot breath on my brow. Then a wind seemed to fan the flames into great, leaping tongues and, looking about, I saw that all the clowns had joined round with hand-bellows, which they were pumping for all they were worth. At the same moment I reached forward to rescue the peanut. And then—I opened my eyes.

“Above me was the same canopy of boughs, but through one of the chinks where there once had shone stars a great shaft from the sun poured its warm, dazzling light full in my eyes. Next, though not so much as a leaf was astir, I felt the touch of a breeze and, turning 115 my head, saw a vast, moving car flopping first up and then down! And under that ear was a face wearing a most mischievous smile.

“‘Why—Why—it’s morning!’ I cried, springing up. ‘But where is the tent! And the clowns!’

“‘Morning, sure enough,’ answered Gray Ears, as he ponderously rose to his feet. ‘As for tents and clowns and all that sort of thing, I’m sure I’ve seen none, though I must say you were making fuss enough just before you waked up to have been playing hide-and-go-seek with all in existence. But tell me what it all was about.’

“And so, as we busied ourselves gathering berries and green grass for breakfast, I related the whole of my dream.

“‘Now, really,’ I questioned in ending, ‘are there that many clowns with the Very Biggest Circus?’

“‘Goodness, no,’ laughed Gray Ears. ‘Still, there are many—two score and more.’

“‘Nevertheless they will keep you,’ answered 116 my friend, as we sat down to our meal, ‘and for this reason: as you of course know, I am a runaway from the Very Biggest Circus, and one of its very great features. Now, while I said nothing at the time, I came upon this placard tacked to a tree while you were examining the circus grounds at the edge of the town last night.’

“And with that Gray Ears produced a square of bright yellow cardboard with these words in tall type printed on it:

“‘Goodness,’ I cried at the sight of it, ‘we must be careful else some one will capture you and take you back home before you are ready to go!’

“‘Careful, bosh,’ retorted Gray Ears. ‘Why begin being careful when I am already captured?’

“‘That you are to take me back to the Very Biggest Circus and claim the reward—the reward of being allowed to be one of its clowns. So come now, make haste and let us break camp. For we must be ready to enter the big tent to-night and between now and then we have a long way to go.’”

“Some day I may relate the happenings that fell to our lot between the heart of the woods and the great river’s edge,” continued Diggeldy Dan. “But I fancy you are just now most impatient to learn exactly what came to pass when Gray Ears and I reached our long journey’s end. So, suppose we all shut our eyes very tight, give a marvelous jump and, thus leaving the point where breakfast was had, land plump on the spot from whence I got my first glimpse of the tents that were to be my new home.

“The day was most done when, forcing his way through a thicket, Gray Ears emerged on a grass-covered ridge that reclined with its head in the woods and its feet at the brim of a river. The stream wound to the north 119 and to the south, while just across it—and so very near the bank that one wondered the buildings did not tumble into the water—lay a city. And within the city—close by the edge that was nearest us—sprawled a great, billowing something of dazzling white. This something swayed gently in the sun’s lowering rays or waved to the breeze with its pennants and flags of yellow and blue. Yes, there it lay, quite as if it awaited our coming—the home of the biggest circus of all.

“‘And to-night, when darkness has come, we shall both cross the river and so reach the very rear of the tents,’ said Gray Ears, as his eyes followed mine over the face of the stream.

“‘Is it there we will cross?’ I asked, as I pointed toward a massive iron bridge.

“‘What! And meet no end of persons and things! Certainly not. I have a far better way. But we must bide our time and meanwhile gather a supply of long, trailing vines, the purpose of which you will learn later on.’

“So the last hour of the day was spent in searching the woods for vine branches, being careful to select only those that were well 120 strung with leaves. By the time we had completed this task and returned to the ridge, darkness had fallen and the lights been set twinkling in the city and tents that lay over the stream.

“‘Now all is ready,’ said Gray Ears. And bidding me take the mass of vines in my arms, he put his trunk about my waist and lifted me—not to my place on his foot—but to the very tip-top of his head. And as I knelt there, with the vines between my knees and my hands clasping fast to the upper edge of his ears, the big fellow swung straight down the slope and walked smack into the river!

“So carefully did Gray Ears advance that his great feet made hardly a splash. I could hear only a soft, gurgling sound that came from where the current, suddenly meeting the side of what it probably mistook for a queer-fashioned rock, protested in some little surprise before slipping around the ends of it. Finally even this murmuring ceased. All movement seemed stilled. Looking about I saw that the whole of Gray Ears—not counting the top of his head and a part of his 121 trunk—had become submerged in the depths of the stream. And so, while I perched in my place—quite as though I were voyaging on the back of a turtle—Gray Ears swam on.

“All went as it should until we reached the very middle of the river. Then a rowboat suddenly shot into view from the lee of a low, wooded island. Two men were in it—one at the oars and the other idly dangling a lantern from his place in the bow. It was headed straight for us. Even as I looked, the rays of the light fell full on my face. I quickly crouched down, but not before the man in the bow had caught sight of me.

“‘A clown! A clown! A sure-enough clown!’ cried he to the one at the oars. ‘Pull to just a bit. There! No, I have lost him.’ And he began to cast about with the lantern.

“Meanwhile I felt the tip of Gray Ears’ trunk pressed close to the side of my head. Grasping the end of it, I held it up to my ear while through it came a whisper in warning:

“‘Quick! Down on your knees—with one arm thrust in the air. We must escape them 122 and their questions, for we cannot afford the delay!’

“Even as I obeyed I could feel the great trunk winding in and about me, and knew that Gray Ears was wrapping me round with the trailing ends of the vines!

“Meanwhile the man with the lantern was pointing it this way and that, while his companion kept insisting that he had seen nothing at all.

“‘But I did,’ he protested. ‘I saw the whole of his round, funny face and, believe it or not, he was sliding along on the top of the water.’

“At this reply the one who was rowing almost tumbled over with laughter. In doing so he loosed his hold on the oars so that the boat swung about and so almost bumped into Gray Ears and me.

“‘There goes an old log with a broken-off limb all covered with vines—how would it do for your clown who sits on the water?’ jeered the doubting one. And, he still poking fun and the other still looking, the two of them passed on, while we again took to our course, to finally land on the coveted shore.

123 “We found ourselves standing in what seemed to be a yard of considerable size and skirted on all but the river’s side by a very tall fence. To the right and the left were gigantic bunkers piled high with coal. Between these we advanced, but had gone scarcely three paces when we came face to face with a big, bearded watchman who carried a glaring white light in one of his hands and a knotted, black stick in the other.

“‘Hey, there!’ he cried. ‘You can’t come in here. It’s ’gainst the rules.’

“‘Got to nuthin’,’ retorted the man. ‘There’s orders writ plain as paint. Now you two gwan right back into the river.’

“And he turned his light on a huge board of white on which there appeared in very black letters:

“‘Yes,’ I cried, ‘but that can’t possibly 124 mean us because we’re not persons but just Gray Ears and Diggeldy Dan.’

“‘Not persons, eh,’ repeated the watchman as he scratched his head, ‘Well, now, I don’t know about that—’

“And he placed the nose of his trunk near the big watchman’s ear and whispered something I couldn’t quite hear.

“‘Oh!’ came the reply, ‘Oh, in that case—of course. Why in the world didn’t you say so at first!’

“While to my utter surprise, he hurried to the gates that led to the street, unfastened the lock and threw them apart with so much of a flourish that one might have supposed us a prince and his train.

“Through the opening strode Gray Ears and we were once more on our way. Long rows of warehouses as dark and as silent as the depths of the night now shut the Very Biggest Circus from view. But over the edge of their frowning black tops a warm, yellow glow lighted the face of the sky. And we knew that this 125 came from the tents for which we were bound.

“Up street and down street the two of us went, meeting no one at all. And then, of a sudden, our path was beset by a burly policeman who seemed not one whit less than a whole half-mile tall. There he stood—twirling his moustache and his round, polished club, and whistling a tune from over the seas. But at sight of us he shut his lips with a start, brought his club to his side and, raising one hand, signaled an immediate halt.

“‘Sorry, but this is a one way thoroughfare. Vehicles can’t move in the direction you are going. You’ll have to turn back.’

“‘Yes,’ argued I, ‘but Gray Ears isn’t a vehicle—he’s only an elephant.’

“‘Makes no difference,’ answered the policeman. ‘Orders are orders and no exceptions made.’

“And with that he began to twirl his club 126 once again and to parade back and forth as if to guard the whole width of the street.

“‘But, you see, Mr. Blue-Coat,’ began Gray Ears. And he finished the sentence in a whisper with his trunk against the other’s right ear.

“‘O—o—oh!’ exclaimed the policeman. ‘Oh—why, go right ahead. Oh, I’m sorry to have delayed you.’

“While he actually stood at salute as we once more moved on our way! Determining to ask my companion very soon what it was he had said to the watchman and to the one in buttons and blue, I held fast to the big fellow’s ears and, peering ahead, awaited a glimpse of the tents. Then, turning a corner, we came into a street and there—away at the foot of it—lay the goal that we sought, all flooded with lights of amber and gold.

“At sight of the tents Gray Ears came to a stop in the shelter of a well-shadowed wall and, placing his trunk round my waist, lifted me from his head to the ground.

“‘Here, Friend Dan, we find ourselves at our journey’s end. A minute more and we 127 shall have entered the great tent and you claimed the reward of finding and returning Gray Ears, the Elephant. It is then that you will take your place among the clowns and I go back to my station. We have had our holiday together and a right merry one it has been. Who knows—perhaps we shall one day repeat it again. In the meantime do not be surprised if I cease speaking to you. For, unless I am away from the circus, I rarely talk to anyone. Indeed you might spend months upon months with the Very Biggest Circus and yet never hear one of its animals utter so much as a word.

“‘And now,’ he added, in that business-like tone which he assumed at times, ‘let us decide upon the manner in which we will enter the greatest tent. First of all we will arrange the placard that I found tacked to the tree and which I believe you have in the top of your hat. Here is a stick of charcoal which I picked up in the coal yard as we passed through the gates. On the side of the card that is blank you must write in a very bold hand:

“‘Excellent,’ approved Gray Ears. ‘This I will take charge of and display in proper fashion when we make our grand entrance. You, on your part, will stand on my back. Now then—up you go!’

“And with that I was swung into place. Next, Gray Ears wrapped the long, leaf-covered streamers around his neck and looped one of them well into his mouth quite as a horse wears a bridle and bit. Then he tossed me the ends which I wound around my wrists just as you have seen the driver of many horses do with the ends of his reins. Next I sprang upright on Gray Ears’ broad back. There I stood, feet apart, my head held erect, leaning backward and aslant, but kept well in place by the vine-reins that led from my ponderous mount’s mouth.

“Then, not answering in words but with a trumpeted note of much triumph, Gray Ears moved forward while I, my suit flapping in the breeze brought about by his speed, lay back on the reins much as the driver of a thundering chariot rests upon his, and wondered and waited and watched.”

“Never had Gray Ears taken such stupendous strides,” said Diggeldy Dan, as he once more went on with his story. “So fast did he move that in less than a minute we had reached the edge of the light that spread like a fan round the tents. And then we plunged into the midst of it to find ourselves in the very back yard of the circus.

“Through the maze of red wagons the two of us went, past little white tents that shimmered with light, and next—in much slower and more methodical fashion—picked our way through the groups of playful, plumed ponies, each decked with trappings that shone like the stars. Past these went the both of us—past these and strange men and strange women, too, all dressed in gay costumes of every color and hue. But at sight of the latter, 131 Gray Ears warned me to drop down on his back and hide quickly away in the long, winding vines. And when I had done so—without once being seen—he headed straight for the rear of the greatest of tents, from whence came the sound of the circus.

“How it fell on the air and fell on the ear—a mingling of music and the hum of the crowd, blended with hoof-beats and laughter! Now naught save a curtain divided us from the all of it, and this Gray Ears thrust back with a swing of his trunk. And then, in the space of much less than a wink, what wonders came into view!

“There were people to the left of us, people to the right of us, and still more across from us, all terraced in masses around a tent so tremendous that its far ends were lost in a shadowy haze. There were pretty ladies to the left of us, pretty ladies to the right of us, and pretty ladies in front of us, all mounted on horses that ran round the rings. There was a ringmaster to the left of us, another to the right of us, and a third just before us, each arrayed in the latest of fashionable dress. And, 132 high up above us, were splashes of red and dashes of blue that were reflected from the sides of the massive round poles that held the huge tent in its place. There was the sheen of the sawdust and the gray of the roof; the clusters of golden lights that flooded the air and flooded the ground, and the clusters of silver lights over the rings at the ends that looked in the distance like bits of the moon.

“And into the midst of this hoopla and whirl, into the heart of the Very Biggest Circus stepped Gray Ears, with me hidden away on his back. So quickly, indeed, had he come through the doorway that those in the rings and those in the crowd did not know of his presence until he was well into the tent. And then he was discovered from all sides at once.

“‘Hey, lookit! Hey, lookit!’ cried those to the left and those to the right.

“‘Well, of all unheard-of things!’ the pretty ladies exclaimed as they brought their mounts to a halt.

“‘Now tell us at once,’ the three ringmasters demanded, each stamping his foot as if to 133 resent it, ‘what’s the meaning of this strange interruption!’

“‘Yes, do so, right now!’ every fair rider protested as she gave a toss of her head to prove that she meant it.

“But for answer Gray Ears merely kept on his way, down the track that circled the tent. Still onward he went around the most distant ring—one of those with the cluster of silvery lights that looked like bits of the moon. And trailing behind in most persistent fashion came the trio of ringmasters all talking at once and urging that Gray Ears begone to his station.

“Yet never a sound did the big fellow utter until he had reached the ring in the center.

“‘Cling fast and be ready,’ then came his command as the end of his trunk brushed the vines near my ear. And kneeling and holding the placard on high, he gravely bowed to the crowd and bowed to the riders and bowed to the ringmasters three.

“‘Found!’ they all cried as they read the words I had written, ‘Found by Diggeldy Dan!’

134 “‘But who,’ puzzled all in the very next breath, ‘is this one called Diggeldy Dan?’

“‘And where may he be?’ questioned the ringmasters three, as they all cracked their whips for attention.

demanded four separate voices, each of the four of them supplying a word. While into the ring stepped the men who had spoken, all wearing black suits and high hats of silk and mustaches as dark as the tips of their boots.

“At the very same moment Gray Ears put down the card and, lifting both me and the vines from his back laid the queer-looking bundle at the feet of the four. No sooner had 135 he done so than I thrust the branches aside, jumped to my toes and bowed low to those at whose feet I’d been placed.

“‘Why, the one who found Gray Ears,’ I cried in reply, ‘none other than Diggeldy Dan!’

“Now at the sight of my face and my polka-dot suit and the sound of my ting-a-ling name, all the children immediately rose in their seats and began to shout and to sing:

“But at this the four frowned and held up four separate hands, whereat the three ringmasters again cracked their whips and called for all to be silent. And then the four opened their purses.

136 “‘No! No! Not a penny!’ cried I, as I watched them, ‘for it’s not that kind of a reward that I’d like best to request.’

“‘Just to stay with you always,’ I answered the four of them, ‘to be one of your clowns, to cut pranks for the children, and sometimes see Gray Ears, the Elephant.’

“‘Granted most gladly,’ each and all of them cried, while the children added their welcome; ‘this very night you shall take your place with the rest, so make ready at once to join with them.’

“I answered this speech with another low bow and then skipped to where Gray Ears was standing. At a nod of his head I mounted his foot and held fast to his knee while, amid shouts of delight from the children, the big fellow set off in very grand style toward his home in the menagerie tent.

“‘Gray Ears,’ I questioned, as we came almost to it, ‘now do tell me what it was you 137 said to the watchman and what it was you whispered in the policeman’s right ear?’

“‘Why,’ began he, ‘But see what is happening! There! On down the tent!’

“What I saw as I looked was whole dozens of clowns pouring in through the curtain we had passed when we came. Peal after peal of merriest laughter attended the sight of them. But amid it and the music we could hear voices calling:

“‘What I whispered,’ said Gray Ears, again answering my question, ‘was simply, “The children are waiting for us.” And, from the sound of the shouts that are now greeting our ears, I think I wasn’t far wrong. So go now; go to those who are calling your name.’

“As he finished he gave me a gentle shove with his trunk and turned to go into the menagerie tent, while I skipped gayly away to join the rest of the clowns.

“Time’s up! Time’s up” called Hippo, who had on this day been placed in charge of the Watch.

“Away to your places, then,” ordered Diggeldy Dan, “and to-morrow we’ll meet once again. For though my tale’s at an end, we may safely depend that another will soon follow after.”

In Spangleland’s realm are many massive blue poles, and among the biggest of these are those that stand in the center of the menagerie tent. Between the bases of two of them is a broad, open space, and it was here all the animals were gathered at twilight on the day following that upon which had ended the tale of Gray Ears, the Elephant.

“And I’m sure all remember your very last words,” Lion was saying to Diggeldy Dan. “As I recall them they ran something like this: ‘For though my tale’s at an end we may safely depend that another will soon follow after.’”

“Exactly,” said Dan. “And now comes the question as to who’s to provide the next story.”

“My goodness!” he cried, as he swung around on Hippo’s vast back the better to be able to face them, “do you mean to say that not one of you has thought of a story? Why, Mr. President, I am indeed astounded! I—”

“Aw, now, Dan, don’t be talking like that,” protested Monkey. “I know a lot of stories only I just can’t remember one right now.”

“And those I know are all so very old,” pleaded Great White Bear, while all the rest seemed ready to excuse themselves on much the same score.

“Well,” said Lion, “in view of all this, there seems to be but one thing to do and that is to put on our thinking caps and not take them off until each has thought of a story. So let us get down to business at once. Tiger, you will kindly come forward and stretch yourself on the ground. There—that is the way. Now, then, do you slowly wave your tail from one side to the other. Exactly. You, Dan, will keep count of the tail-waves until you have recorded exactly one hundred. 141 And until that number is reached there’s not to be a word from a one of you. Instead, you are to keep silent and think. All ready now—go!”

At this word of command Tiger’s tail began to rise and to fall and Dan’s head to nod down and then up as he kept exact track of the waves of it. Quite at the same time all the others solemnly puckered their brows, half closed their eyes, or pillowed their chins as folks always do when they engage in deep thought.

Lion gazed about with so severe an eye that hardly an animal dared breathe. Not a sound broke the silence. And then, of a sudden—!

Now the taps were not specially loud and, aside from that fact, there is, as a rule, nothing particularly unusual about an innocent tap, nor, for that matter, about two nor yet three of them.

142 But, in this case, you see—everything was so very still with even Monkey not so much as uttering a sound, that——

And at this you may be sure the business of thinking of stories was entirely forgotten. Instead, every ear was alert. It now seemed certain that the taps had come from the top of the biggest blue pole.

“Ahoy, whoever you are—what is it you want?” called Lion, as he directed his eyes and his voice toward that point in the roof where the pole passed through to the skies.

“Come in!” roared Lion, “Come in at once, whatever you are and wherever you are!”

“Let me skip up the side of the pole and see just what it can be,” cried Monkey.

But just at that moment there came a muffled voice from the roof—a voice that was something between a caw and a croak.

“Yes, Mr. Voice, you are in Spangleland and this is the menagerie tent,” answered Lion. “And now if you will be so good as to come out of hiding—”

But even while Lion was speaking a movement was seen and with it appeared two very black feet. These were followed by the under side of an even blacker body; with a long, pointed beak coming after. And thus, bit by bit, there gradually emerged the whole of a crow of quite remarkable size.

Now those who gazed upward at this strange visitor were immediately struck by three most unusual things. In the first place their caller’s head was almost wholly concealed by a messenger’s cap that was much too large for him. Secondly, he walked down the side of the pole when to have flown would have been a far simpler way. And, thirdly, instead of showing some interest in his surroundings as he entered, he preferred to bury his nose in the crook of what must have been a most entertaining book. Indeed he did not once look up 144 until he had set his feet on the ground. And then it was to find himself surrounded by all the animals.

“Lion, Lion—Mister Lion,” he inquired rather briskly as he tucked his book under one wing and scanned the many faces.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir—Message for you, sir,” and removing his cap with something of a flourish, the crow took a bit of folded paper from out the crown of it.

“Well, well!” exclaimed Lion as he opened the missive and glanced at its contents, “though addressed in my care it’s really for all of us.”

“Why, a message from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes. Here is what she says:

“‘I and my White-White Horse will be quite near you at half-past twilight on the morrow. So please be at home, for it is very likely we will pay you a visit.

145 “Oh, hurrah, hurrah!” shouted all the animals in one breath while Dan clapped his hands with much glee.

“You are, indeed, a most welcome messenger,” remarked Lion, as he turned to where the crow had been standing. But, to his surprise, the somber chap in the cap was no longer there. Instead, he had perched himself on a wheel of Giraffe’s spacious home. Yes, there he sat, once more reading his book, and, in addition, was now slowly munching an apple.

“I say,” repeated Lion, “a most welcome messenger.” And this time he laid so much stress on the very last word that the crow jumped from the wheel in the greatest of haste.

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” he answered as he vainly tried to stuff both the book and the apple under one wing. “Calling a messenger, were you, sir?”

At which all the animals laughed so heartily that the crow looked quite confused and muttered something about “time to be going.”

“But not unless you are entirely ready to 146 leave,” remonstrated Lion, “for I assure you that you are quite welcome to remain and finish your apple and your book, also, if you choose. You flew all the way from Sunset House, I presume?”

“Well, I should rather say not!” answered the crow, as he flipped his cap to one side with the toes of one foot. “What would be the fun of being a messenger-bird if one had to fly all the time?”

“Why, jump a cloud and ride it. That’s the way I most always do. Just let my feet hang over the end and read my book until it’s time to hop off.”

“Oh, it’s one of those strange-people books,” answered the crow. “I like to read about people. They do such funny things, don’t they? Well, I must be getting up in the air and looking for a cloud that is going toward the west.” And he started hopping up the side of the very biggest pole.

“Please don’t go,” coaxed Ostrich. “Stay 147 a while longer and tell us about the clouds. You have ridden a lot of them, haven’t you?”

“Oh, I guess a million trillion of them, at least,” said the crow in a superior sort of way. “But then I wouldn’t know what to tell you about them. You should ask the Pretty Lady if you want to know about clouds. She knows stories about most everything. Besides, I can’t spare the time just now.”

And with his beak once more buried in his book the bird from the west moved slowly upward toward the roof to finally disappear at that point where the pole passed through to the skies.

“What an odd individual,” said Puma. “I wish he had talked more. I warrant he could tell a lot of fine stories.”

“Isn’t it fine that she’s coming to-morrow,” cried Zebra. “Perhaps she will tell us another story.”

“No doubt she will,” put in Diggeldy Dan. 148 “But now our twilight’s last moments have come so we will bid one another farewell till to-morrow. And at the sign of the Petal Watch we will gather again to be ready to greet our golden-haired guest when she comes with her prancing steed from out of the west.”

“Come come, now!” cried Lion, as he hurried about with all the bustle and importance of the grand marshal of some holiday parade, “into line with you! No, no; not that way—in two lines. Just as we do when we play at London Bridge. There! That’s more like it.”

It was on the evening following that which had brought the message from the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes and the great menagerie tent was agog with excitement. Under the guidance of Lion all the animals of Spangleland were placing themselves in a manner befitting the approach of the expected guest. Thus the greater part of them were arranged in two long, parallel rows; though there were others who grouped themselves at 150 the head and the foot of the line. These included Giraffe and his family who were stationed at the top; Monkey and his folks who stood at the end of it; and—Diggeldy Dan.

Meantime Lion continued to give instructions, and just as he had finished there came the sound of a neigh through the twilight, followed by a silvery laugh of a voice well remembered. Next the canvas wall gave a billowing bulge and then opened and closed quite like the curtains in a Punch and Judy theater. And there, standing before them, was the White-White Horse carrying the one for whom they all waited.

“Why, what an attractive formation!” the Pretty Lady exclaimed, as the sweep of her blue eyes took in all the groupings. “Is it some new kind of a game?”

“What! No reply?” she went on in surprise. “Can it be the kittens have gotten your tongues? But no—there must be some other reason: for surely there is the tip of something quite pink peeping from between 151 Tiger’s sharp teeth. Yes—now all becomes clear. How stupid of me not to have noticed before! For look you, my White-White Horse, these are not sure-enough animals, but just makebelieve ones, all stuffed with straw and sawdust and things. So come—let us go.” And she made as if to turn back.

“Oh—ho!” cried the Lady, “so you actually can move, after all! But why do you and your family stand at the head of the line?”

In answer Giraffe took a bit of chalk in his mouth and, using Hippo’s broad back for a board, scrawled, “Reception Committee.” And then stepping forward, he made an extremely low bow.

“Ah, ha! Now I see!” the Lady replied; as she advanced at a prance on the White-White Horse. “But you?” she inquired, with a nod to the left and a nod to the right toward those drawn up in two rows.

152 “Pretty Lady! Pretty Lady!” called Monkey from his place at the end, “don’t be talking just to the audience. Please ask us what we are.”

“Why, we are the grooms for the White-White Horse,” answered the merry-eyed fellow as he proceeded to take charge of her mount.

Then, escorted by Lion and Dan—with Giraffe and his folks filing in close behind—the Lady was led to a gayly striped tub. Once enthroned on the top of it she again looked about to find all the “audience” in a halfcircle before her. At the very same moment they gave three ringing cheers and then took their seats, from which they gazed at their visitor in rapt expectation.

“Well, well; and now that is over with, What comes next?” asked she, from her place on the tub.

“Why, a story, of course,” they all cried, quite as if nothing else could possibly follow. “See, we are waiting for you to begin.”

“But,” protested the Lady, “I’d much 153 rather listen. I’m sure that would prove whole heaps more fun. Indeed, I insist. So, Lion, suppose you select the one who’s to tell us the tale.” And she clapped her hands at the thought of it.

But, alas, Lion could but gaze at his fellows and then back at the Lady in silent confusion.

“To tell the truth, Pretty Lady,” he finally replied, “none of us know any very good stories. Only last evening we tried but couldn’t think—not even of one. Of course, Dan has many wonderful tales; but then he has been out in the great, wide world.”

“Oh, dear,” broke in Kangaroo in a most wistful tone, “if we could only do things like Gray Ears and Dan!”

“If we only could!” exclaimed Tiger, “then we, too, would have stories to tell.”

“Yes,” the Pretty Lady said, nodding her head and speaking very thoughtfully, “yes, that is true.” And then silence fell on the group. A moment later, and as if to herself, she added, “Why, why not? Yes, it could be done. I can arrange to take them and then bring them back.”

“Just this,” answered their guest as she leaped to her feet. “I was wondering how I might help you all to find stories. Now of course the most natural way is to have you meet with adventure.”

“Out in the great world, to be sure. Indeed there is no reason at all why I should not carry one of you off with me this very evening.”

“Be silent, sir,” Lion commanded. “Perhaps, Pretty Lady, you will propose the one who will be the first to accompany you.”

“I’ll attend to the details,” volunteered Diggeldy Dan. And gathering an armful of sweet-smelling hay, he dashed out of sight behind Giraffe’s gilded home. Soon he returned with a bundle of straws protruding from his tightly clasped hands. Now the tops 155 held to view were as evenly matched as the straws in a very new broom; while the opposite ends were completely concealed by the cuffs of Dan’s baggy white sleeves.

“Here,” announced he, “are the same number of straws as there are animals gathered together. But no two straws are of quite the same length. So—”

“The one drawing the longest of all in the bundle will this very night go in quest of a story,” finished the Lady with a nod of approval.

“Splendid,” added Lion. And, as President of Animals, he drew the first one.

“As fast as you draw them, you must file past my seat and lay all the straws on the top of the tub,” the Pretty Lady instructed. “Thus we will find who is possessed of the longest.”

So forward they went and, as you may well believe, with no end of eager wonderment. Meanwhile the Lady added zest to the fun by telling off the lots as they reached her.

“Your straw is the longest,” she would call 156 as they passed—“No! No! Here’s one longer—My, what a short one!—Why, who could have drawn it?—Surely not Elephant!—Now Hippo is favored and Giraffe has been bested—But just for the moment for now I’ve another that’s quite the longest drawn yet.”

And so, the Lady comparing all the straws laid before her, the last of the animals finally moved down the tent and then, doubling back, returned with all speed to their places. Every straw being drawn, Dan joined the Lady and the two of them consulted for a moment together.

“Yes, his is the longest—easily the longest,” the animals overheard the two judges agree; and every ear did its best to catch the sound of a name. Then, with the longest straw held far aloft, the Pretty Lady skipped straight to where all the bruins were grouped and touched one on the head with the tip of her whip.

“Little Black Bear!” rose the cry from all sides. For it was he, you see, who’d been chosen.

Now for a moment Little Black Bear was so taken back that he could do naught but 157 wrinkle and unwrinkle the end of his nose. And when he finally found his voice there was so much commotion that no one heard what he said.

“Hurry, hurry!” the Pretty Lady was crying, “for we must be well out of Spangleland before the Petal Watch closes. Lively, now, Monkey, and bring me my White-White Horse. Come Sir Adventurer, and let Elephant help you to a seat just behind me.”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” cried Elephant, as he wound his great trunk around Little Bear’s back and lifted him into his place.

“Wait, wait!” cried Hippo, “why we are sending Little Black Bear away without any lunch!”

“Goodness, so we are!” Lion exclaimed. “Be quick, some of you and see what can be got together.”

At this. word of command all scurried away in every direction and soon there had been gathered two apples, three carrots, an orange, 158 some peanuts, and a taffy-on-the-stick. These were hastily placed in an old paper bag that Dan dug from the depths of his pocket.

“Now at last we are off,” the Pretty Lady declared, as the bundle was tucked under Black Bear’s free arm. “Farewell till the twilight shall bring us back once again.” And away through the half-light the three of them sped.

“A merry journey!” cried some, as they followed the departing ones on down the tent.

“I will, I will!” came the answering cry, and with a neigh from the Horse, a ringing laugh from the Lady and a last paw-wave from Little Black Bear, the three travelers passed through a rift in the wall and were swallowed by the gathering dusk.

“And now,” called out Dan, “it is high time that we, too, were fast disappearing. So away every one of you and, until we gather once more, there’s a treat in the thought of what a story’s in store.”

Now when the White-White Horse disappeared through the dusk with the Pretty Lady and Little Black Bear on his back, his feet seemed suddenly shod with wings. Indeed, he traveled so very swiftly that, in telling of it afterward, Little Black Bear was never quite certain that they had not actually skimmed through the air. But—as he always added in conclusion—whether they did or did not made no very great difference. The important point was that even the wind could not have moved faster, so that, in most no time at all, the three of them found themselves at the edge of a very black, and very deep, and very great forest.

“What a wonderful place!” cried Little Black Bear. “Do let us go on into the depths of it!”

160 “No,” answered the Lady, as she brought the White-White Horse to a halt. “At least I may not go, for I have much else to do. But it is here that you are to alight and set out in quest of your story.”

“Oh, that will be fine,” said Little Black Bear, as he prepared to climb to the ground. And then, hesitating for a moment, he added, “But how am I to get back to the menagerie tent?”

“Trust me for that,” the Lady replied, “for in due time I shall come to you again and then the three of us will once more return to Spangleland.”

And as her wiggley-nosed passenger scrambled down, the golden-haired one bade him a merry farewell and was gone.

For a moment Little Black Bear stood looking after the fleeting forms and then, turning his face toward the forest and tucking his lunch bag more securely under one arm, he waddled into the deepening gloom as quickly as his rather short legs would carry him.

“Why, it must be here that the circus gets all its poles,” he exclaimed, as he looked about 161 at the tremendously tall trees. “Goodness, the number of them! And the size! There’s one that’s every bit as big around as Hippo; and another that’s even larger than Elephant.” He recalled what the crow in the messenger’s cap had said about a million trillion clouds. “Yes,” he said, wagging his head rather wisely, “there must easily be that many trees.”

So, talking to himself as he went, and picking his way around the ends of gray, gnarled logs, Little Black Bear trudged deeper and deeper into the forest. As he advanced the gloom changed to night, and, though the traveler’s eyes were very bright and quite used to the dark, he finally decided to find a resting place until morning.

Now, Little Black Bear had never spent a night in the woods but was, on the contrary, accustomed to snuggling close in the straw on the floor of a splendid red and gold cage. Still, he had often heard his elders tell of the great wide world and he knew that hollow trees were supposed to make ideal lodging places. So he immediately set about to find one. He had not far to look, for very soon he 162 came to a tree of unusual size and there, in its base, was a most inviting black hole. Going up to it, he found that the hole opened into a round room in the trunk. The floor of the room was packed close with leaves that crackled under foot as their visitor stepped over them.

“Why, I shall be most comfortable here,” cried Little Black Bear, “I had no idea one could find such houses as this away in the depths of the forest.”

In fact the discovery so delighted him that he began to sing the merriest kind of a tune and, noting that the walls of the tree caused his voice to seem much deeper than it really was, he sang the song all over again. Next—because he loved to hear the leaves crinkle and crunch—he broke into a jig and ended by rolling over and over on the floor. But in doing this he all but crushed the paper bag which held his lunch and that caused him to remember that perhaps he should dine before going to bed. So, getting up, he went out into the open and sat down with his back to the tree. Here he undid the bag and rummaged 163 inside with his paw. He was very much tempted to eat the taffy-on-the-stick but finally decided on an apple. Munching upon this, he sat peering into the night.

Here and there winged little spots of light glowed for a moment and then were snuffed out again. They made Little Black Bear think of spangles. They were about that size. He thought they might be the fireflies of which he had heard. But, aside from the twinkle-dots, all was gloom broken only by immense columns that were even blacker than the night itself. And these Little Black Bear knew were the trunks of the great trees that stood near his own. How big everything was. How cool and sweet the air. How he wished all the other animals were with him. What a story he would have to tell!

From away in the distance came a faint “hoot, hoot, hoot.” Out of nearby trees dropped odd little sounds as though something were hopping about on the branches. But by now he had disposed of his apple and so carefully closing the paper bag, he rose to his feet and returned to the room in the tree.

164 “Gracious,” he said, “why, it must be late as anything. I was never up this long before in all my life. What a lark I am having—”

“I say, hush up, whoever you may be down below,” suddenly broke forth a voice from somewhere outside and over his head. “First you rouse a body with your singing, and now you insist upon talking to yourself.”

“Oh, please excuse me,” answered Little Black Bear, feeling very much ashamed. “I really didn’t mean to disturb any one.”

“Well, it’s all right this time, only kindly don’t do it again.” Then, after a pause, “Will you be with us long?”

“Oh, no!” Little Black Bear hastened to reply, “I am quite alone. But who are you, if I may ask?”

“Hey, there!” came an entirely new voice, this time from very high overhead, “how long are you two going to keep folks awake with that chattering!”

But neither Little Black Bear nor the one to whom he had been talking answered so 165 much as a word. Instead, silence now fell as deep as the night that surrounded the tree. Little Black Bear hardly dared move for fear the leaves might crackle and then, after a time—for he had already become drowsy—he gradually forgot the strange voices that had come from above, and slipped away into Slumberland.

Now whether it was this sound that awakened him, Little Black Bear had no way of knowing, but, however that may have been the very first thing that came to him when he again opened his eyes was the rhythm and ring of an echoing hammer. He knew it was a hammer, for he had sometimes seen the men of the circus at work on the cages. Indeed, as he lay there on the warm bed of leaves, he could almost see the nails slowly sink into place.

“Surely, now, some one must be building a house in the forest,” he said, as he scrambled to his feet and went to the door of the tree. “Yes, and it must be somewhere up the side of that slope.”

For, now that day had come, Little Black 166 Bear could see that the tree in which he had spent the night stood at the foot of what looked to be a mountain—a mountain that was covered with trees quite as big as those that grew at its base. So closely did these stand and so dense were their boughs that it was only here and there that a bit of the sun found its way through the leaves. Because of this, Little Black Bear was reminded of the soft gray twilight-time that always brought Diggeldy Dan to the menagerie tent.

There were birds of many kinds in many, many trees twittering and teetering as if discussing their plans for the day. Their voices caused Little Black Bear to remember the mysterious ones of the night. But he soon dismissed them from mind, and turning his thoughts to peanuts and carrots, sat down with the lunch bag between his knees and devoured a most appetizing breakfast. Once more he was about to eat the taffy-on-the-stick, but again decided to wait until later. As he finished his last peanut, the pounding of the hammer sounded again and then, a moment later, came the rising and falling “gr-r-r-rrr” of a saw.

167 “I have just got to find out what all that is about,” decided Little Black Bear, as he folded his lunch bag. “Who knows? It may prove the best kind of an adventure.”

And so, guided by the song of the saw, he started up the side of the mountain. As he advanced the trees grew less dense and this made more light. Long, dazzling beams that seemed to split into thousands of glistening splinters came from the foliaged canopy that spread far above. Great rocks began to appear. The grass grew more green. The hammering was very near now. And then, reaching the edge of what proved to be a broad clearing, Little Black Bear came in sight of a scene that caused him to halt in amazement.

Spread out before him was a sort of niche in the mountain with a floor as wide as the menagerie tent, fully as smooth and almost as long. At the back of the niche and framed by jaggedy rocks were two wooden doors made of small trunks of trees bound tightly together with bolts and with bars. Both these doors were closed as if shutting the mouth of a cave.

168 But it was what occupied the center of the clearing that held the fascinated attention of Little Black Bear. Here was a wide-spreading tree and under its shade an enormously long work-bench surrounded by whole drifts of curlycue shavings. The bench was fitted with a vise with wide wooden jaws, while its face was covered with many strange tools. Just in front of the bench and half in the sunlight were two massive sawhorses that supported an oddly shaped frame. And, bending over these, a cap on his head and a carpenter’s apron tied round his waist was a shaggy coated bruin of marvelous size.

Now, of course, Little Black Bear took in the entire scene in a whole lot less time than it has taken to tell of it. Indeed, by now he had softly lifted himself to the top of a rock that he might obtain a still better view. Then, just as he had done so, and without the least sign of warning, the rock rolled away with a crash, and the next moment he lay sprawling in the clearing not a half-dozen steps from the bear in the cap and the apron!

Now, usually the very first thing one does after taking a tumble is to scramble up again. And that is exactly what Little Black Bear was of a mind to do when the rock on which he was standing turned over and he suddenly found himself sprawling almost at the feet of the great bear who was at work in the clearing. But he did not recover himself before the one with the hammer had taken full account of his plight.

“Tacks, jackplanes and drawshaves, and what is all this!” roared that ponderous party, as he put his arms akimbo and gazed in astonishment at the mass of curly black hair that lay there before him.

“Why—why, it’s just me come to call,” 170 sputtered Little Black Bear, as he winked and blinked from his place on the ground.

“That’s quite plain to see,” the other agreed, in a voice that resembled nothing so much as thunder. “But gluepots and gimlets, what is the notion of prostrating yourself in this humble fashion. For I assure you that I am neither a prince nor a king but merely a hard-working carpenter.”

“Oh, that—,” Little Bear repeated as he finally got to his feet, “Oh, that wasn’t my notion, sir; it was just the rock’s. You see it kind of rolled out from under me.” And he explained the happening in so droll a manner that the big bear laughed so loud and so long that the forest fairly echoed in answer.

“There, there, forgive me,” he finally said, as he wiped the tears from his eyes with the top of his cap, “but you surely cut a most comical figure. And now, though it may be none of my affair, let me ask just what it is that has brought you.”

Thus encouraged, Little Black Bear told his story as to just who he was, whence he had come, and what it was that he sought.

171 “Well, well, now that is indeed interesting,” the other exclaimed. “My name’s Shagg—Shagg, the Carpenter—and I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.” With that he extended a paw, the two shook hands and then, at Shagg’s suggestion, they sat down at the foot of the tree that stood near the bench.

“So you are a circus bear. My, what a lot of wonderful places you must get to see. I’ve often thought it would be splendid to leave the forest and travel into the world. But then there is Mrs. Shagg. And there are the things to be built.”

“Why, I should think this would be the jolliest kind of a place,” rejoined Little Black Bear. “I can’t imagine anything quite as interesting as building things. Have you always been a carpenter?”

“Ever since I was old enough to handle a saw and a hammer,” answered Shagg. “You see carpentering, and especially chair-making, has been the family trade for quite a long time; in fact, ever since the days of the Three Bears.”

“The three bears,” said the other. “The 172 three bears—why, you surely don’t mean the very Three Bears!”

“But there’s been books and stories and everything written about them!” cried Little Black Bear in rapt admiration, “about them and Goldilocks, you know.”

“Goldilocks—hum—Goldilocks,” mused Shagg. “What a piece of good fortune came to our family when she broke those beds and chairs. For—so the family tradition goes—it was in mending them that Great Big Bear found he had a knack for handling tools. That very same summer he built an entirely new set of chairs. Then he got to making things for the neighbors and now—why, just look here.”

And going to the doors that were made from small trees, Shagg swung them apart and so disclosed a deep cavern that extended far into the side of the mountain. There, inside, were whole dozens of beds with inviting looking rocks for mattresses, many massive chairs and no end of footstools to match.

173 “My, what a lot of them!” marveled Little Black Bear. “Do you sell many?”

“Well, not at this time of year,” explained Shagg, as he closed and bolted the doors. “Most of the bear families are too busy vacationing and roaming about through the forest during the summer to have much use for furniture. But as autumn wanes and they begin to think of the long winter nights when they will sit at home sucking their paws and drowsing before the fire, I’ll tell you the thought of possessing a big roomy chair and a footstool is a highly pleasing one. And, though I do say it, no one makes better furniture than Shagg, the Carpenter. Why, with anything like care, and provided the owner isn’t a terribly loud snorer, one of my chairs will last all of two winters. But, of course, there are snorers that will loosen the joints of the best chair that ever was made.”

And so he rambled on, telling no end of interesting things until, chancing to glance up at the sun, he sprang to his feet.

“Screws and screw drivers!” he exclaimed. “I had no idea it was so late.” And he 174 hurried back to the bench. “You see I always aim to build at least one chair every morning. Would you care to watch me work?”

“Goodness, no. I shouldn’t know how to begin,” answered the watcher, as he climbed to a seat on the far end of the bench.

“Well, just remember this, then,” instructed Shagg, as he gave the vise-handle an extra hard twist, “if you ever do use one—or any tool for that matter—don’t hold it too tightly. That’s nearly always the trouble with beginners. They just grip for all they’re worth and try to do all of the aiming. But what I say is—let a saw alone. Give it something like a free head and it will follow the line most every time.”

“Why, it’s the same way with guiding a bicycle,” chimed Little Black Bear. “I know when I first began to ride in the circus I used to grip the handle bars like everything, but—”

175 And so—having become fast friends—Shagg and Little Black Bear visited on through the hours, their voices mingling with the song of the saw, the ring of the hammer, and all the happy sounds that came to the clearing from the depths of the forest below.

Little by little the morning advanced. Little by little the shadows crept nearer the rocks and the trees. Little by little the thing on the sawhorses became more like a chair. And then, just as the last touch was added, the soft hum of noontide was broken by a voice that came from neither here nor there nor, for that matter, from any particular direction at all.

“Shagg—ee! Shagg—ee!” it called in an odd, muffled note that seemed very near and yet far away.

“Hurry, then, before the dinner gets cold,” again called the voice, and this time Little Black Bear realized that it came right up from the ground.

“Indeed, we will,” declared the big fellow as 176 he put down his hammer and untied his apron. “Come, now—”

“Oh, thank you very much,” protested Little Black Bear, “but really, I have my lunch right here in my paper bag.”

“Nonsense!” insisted Shagg, “why mother wouldn’t hear to me leaving you up here. So come along with you.” And leading the way to the far edge of the clearing, Shagg uncovered an iron ring, raised a heavy trap door, and the two descended a well-worn flight of winding stone steps until they came to a great, rugged room that was almost as broad as the clearing above.

It required but a glance for Little Black Bear to see that the place in which he so suddenly found himself was a cave. There to the right was what had once been its entrance but which had at some time or other been turned into a window—a window that was framed with trailing wild roses and through which he could see the trees of the forest and the bright green of the grass underneath. On that side of the cave that was across from the stairway rose a huge fireplace 177 and in front of it—her back turned toward them, and slowly stirring the contents of a very fat and very round pot that hung over the flames—bent Mrs. Shagg.

“Mother, this is Little Black Bear; I have brought him down to dine with us,” said Shagg.

“Why, isn’t that fine, now,” cried she, coming forward. “Indeed, young sir, you are most welcome. You will find the spring over in the corner, should you care to wash. It won’t take me a minute to put on an extra bowl and then we’ll sit right down.”

As she hustled about, laying another place at the big wooden table that stood in the middle of the cave, Little Black Bear thought he had never met any one with such a white cap and apron. He just positively knew there never were any starched quite as stiff and as straight nor adorned with such beautiful bows. Indeed, he had hard work in trying to tell whether the merry crackling sound that now and then filled the room came from the apron or the fire on the hearth.

“Hurry along with the both of you, now,” 178 called she, as Shagg and Little Black Bear returned from the spring. And soon they were all three at table. Little Black Bear had never before seen such lovely dishes—beautiful iron ones and so delightfully black. Of course there was porridge—three bountiful bowls of it—and a deep dish fairly overflowing with honey. As they ate they talked, the guest telling many stories of the circus and a great deal about Diggeldy Dan, the Pretty Lady, and of Spangleland.

“Now, goodness, do eat your dinner,” Mrs. Shagg kept saying. “Shagg, do help Little Black Bear to some more of the porridge.”

Dinner over with, Shagg and Little Black Bear drew their chairs back from the table so that Mrs. Shagg might clear the dishes, and this gave the visitor more of an opportunity of looking about. Along the sides of the cave were a number of chairs, all with very high backs, and, between these, no less than a dozen quaint chests with corners of brass and handles of iron. On the walls of the cave were many big frames fashioned from bark 179 and each displaying subjects of a most interesting kind. One pictured a wide-waisted hogshead labeled “Molasses”; while another showed a huge honeybee drawn many times larger than bees really are and bearing the title, “The Bears’ Very Best Friend.” In fact, Little Black Bear thought all of the paintings in excellent taste and quite in the style that one might expect to find in the dining room of almost any bruin.

At the back of the cave was a stout wooden door which somehow or other wore a mysterious look. Eyeing it closely, Little Black Bear was just going to ask as to where the door led, when, glancing at Shagg, he saw that the big fellow had gone sound asleep. Next he discovered that Mrs. Shagg had done exactly the same thing in a comfortable rocker that stood near the fire.

“Well, well,” said Little Black Bear to himself, “if that’s to be the way of it, I, too, shall indulge in a nap.”

So, twisting about until he had got himself into a quite snoozy position, he was just on the point of closing his eyes, when there, 180 among the wild roses, appeared a pink-frocked little girl with long yellow curls. Even as he watched, she placed her two hands on the window, and then, softly raising it, stepped into the cave.

If Little Black Bear had never before held his breath, he most positively did when, as he gazed with fascination at the wee girl with the tumbling curls, he saw her raise the window and place her two slippered feet on the flagged floor of the cave.

The first thing he noticed was that she carried a bonnet by its long ribbons quite as one holds the handle to a basket. This she first placed on the floor and then, carefully closing the window behind her, again picked it up and started on tiptoe toward Mrs. Shagg.

Now, as you no doubt remember, Little Black Bear had got himself into a snoozy position just as the strange face appeared at the window, and he still lay huddled deep 182 down in the depths of his chair. So, as the one with the bonnet softly crossed the great cave, the back of the chair gradually shut her from view. But Little Black Bear had by this time recovered his breath and, becoming more bold, put his head out from under one arm of the chair in order to see what was about to take place. There sat Mrs. Shagg—sound asleep in the rocker with her apron spread over her knees. Quietly the little girl approached her. Not a sound did she make. Except for the steady “tick-tock, tick-tock” of the clock that stood on the mantel shelf, there was no sound of any kind throughout the whole cave. Now the yellow-haired stranger was at Mrs. Shagg’s very side, and had placed one of her hands under the crown of the bonnet. What in the world was she going to do!

Leaning still farther out, Little Black Bear craned his neck to see just what was about to come next. Ah! now he saw! Their visitor was pouring something into Mrs. Shagg’s lap. But what was it she brought? Again he edged himself still farther along. And then—

At the sound of the fall, Mrs. Shagg sprang to her feet with the towering Shagg following after; while at the very same moment the floor of the cave was simply strewn with berries that the little girl had poured from her bonnet into Mrs. Shagg’s lap.

“Plumb-bobs and sawdust, now! What’s all this rumpus?” stormed the carpenter, glaring about. “Oh, it’s you, is it, Tumble Curls; did you come down the chimney and knock over the porridge pot?”

“And here’s something else on the floor,” added her husband, as his eyes fell upon a certain sheepish-faced party who was just then picking himself up from under the overturned chair.

“Yes,” admitted Little Black Bear, “it was all my fault. For it was I who did it—I and the chair.” And he recited just what had happened. “But I’ll clean up every last one of the berries—honest I will.”

184 “Pshaw, now, you’ll do nothing of the kind, for the broom will clear them away in three Whisks and a whee,” laughed Mrs. Shagg.

“Of course,” agreed Tumble Curls “while I can easily get a brimming bonnet-ful more.” And she started away toward the window.

“Nonsense,” protested Shagg, “you’ll do nothing of the sort; for we can go without dessert for once, I guess. Stay right where you are and meet our new friend, Little Black Bear.”

“Pleased to,” said Tumble Curls, dropping a curtsy and putting one hand to her dimpled chin. And when, a moment later, she learned that Little Black Bear was from the circus you may be sure she forgot all about the berries that had by now been brushed into a dustpan by Mrs. Shagg.

Indeed nothing would do but that Little Black Bear should do some tricks for them.

185 “Oh, please, please do,” begged Tumble Curls, “for I’ve never, never been to a circus, though my grannylocks has told me about them and, once, I saw a wonderful picture. It showed some bears walking on big, colored globes. Do they really do that?”

“Why, of course,” answered Little Black Bear. “That’s easy as pie. If I only had—”

“I have the very thing,” interrupted Mrs. Shagg, as she went to one of the chests that stood near the wall.

“Of course!” exclaimed Shagg. “The ball I made you to use when darning my clothes.”

Out it came and soon, to the amazement of both the big bruins and the great joy of Tumble Curls, Little Black Bear had mounted to the top of it and traveled the full length of the cave. Then, as if to cap the climax, he turned himself topsy-turvy, tossed his heels in the air, and—of all unheard-of things—walked back again on his paws!

“Nor I, either!” admired Mrs. Shagg. As for Tumble Curls, she danced and clapped her hands with so much delight that Little Black Bear gladly did his tricks over and over again. Finally he turned a dozen somersaults all in a 186 row, to say nothing of leapfrogging high above four stools that stood near the window.

Now, had Mr. and Mrs. Shagg and Tumble Curls had their way about it, Little Black Bear would have spent the entire afternoon performing for them. But just as he had sprung over the last of the stools, the clock on the mantel suddenly seemed to forget to tick and to tock. Instead it gave forth a warning “burr—r-r-r”, next it uttered a queer “click” and then called out the hour in so positive a tone that Little Black Bear turned about with a start.

“What! That o’clock!” cried he. “Oh, then I must be going at once, else I’ll never reach the menagerie tent by half-past twilight.”

Of course the others protested, but when they understood that their visitor really had to leave them, they immediately offered to accompany him at least part way through the forest.

“It won’t take me a minute to get ready,” assured Mrs. Shagg, as she went to the door at the back of the cave. And soon she came forth with a beautiful cashmere shawl, a 187 lovely green parasol, and a bonnet simply covered with shining jet beads. While she was tying the bonnet strings under her chin, Shagg had opened two of the chests. From one he took a glossy silk hat that was almost as tall as the mantelpiece clock; and from the other a cane with a gorgeous gold knob.

“Family heirlooms,” said he, as he handed the walking stick to Little Black Bear for the latter’s inspection. “Yes, sir; wonderful cane it is, too. The very one that belonged to Great Big Bear. Just look at the initials engraved on the top of it.”

Sure enough, there were the three letters, “G. B. B.”—a bit worn, yet still quite distinct.

“And the hat?” asked Little Black Bear, as they climbed the stone steps and came to the clearing, “is it—”

“My grannylocks always liked to tell of the time when she took it and brought it back filled with berries,” put in Tumble Curls, “Goodness, how Great Big Bear did scold!”

188 “Then your grannylocks once lived here in the forest like you?” asked Little Black Bear of Tumble Curls, as the four descended the slope.

“Of course she did. Surely you must have heard of my grannylocks—Goldilocks, some called her.”

“Goldilocks!” repeated Little Black Bear. “Goldilocks! Well, I should say I have! But,” he added in a puzzled sort of way, “I always supposed that she and the Three Bears weren’t—weren’t—”

“Weren’t on very good terms?” finished Shagg. “Yes, we all know that story. But, as I said this morning, the fact that Goldilocks broke those chairs proved the very best thing that could have happened to our family. So you may be sure it wasn’t long until she and the Three Bears became the closest of friends.”

Thus they talked as they walked into the deeper depths of the forest. What an odd group they made! First came Little Black Bear, his eyes and his ears wide with attention and his lunch bag still tucked tightly under one arm. At his side skipped Tumble Curls, 189 swinging her bonnet and chattering and laughing or telling no end of wonderful things about her own home that lay in a glade high up the mountain slope. A dozen paces behind them came the two Shaggs, arm linked in arm—he with his cane and very grand hat and she with her parasol and still grander shawl. On they went until they had got well past the great tree in which Little Black Bear had slept through the night; past this and almost within sight of the fringe of the forest. And then Shagg cried to them to halt.

“For it is here that we must leave you,” he explained. “You see, we bears of the forest seldom or never go beyond or even to the edge of it.”

“It has been fine of you to come all this way,” Little Black Bear said gratefully, “and I can’t begin to thank you for the wonderful time I’ve had.”

“La! La!” returned Mrs. Shagg, “all we hope is that you will visit us again some day.”

“You’ll always find a welcome,” rumbled Shagg, as he gave Little Black Bear a hearty thump on one shoulder.

190 “Oh, do come back,” said Tumble Curls wistfully. “Promise you will.”

“I’ll try,” answered Little Black Bear, as he set his face toward the forest’s edge. And then, amid the cries of farewell, he parted from his three friends.

He had gone but a short way when he felt something rather sharp and rather hard pressing against the crook of his arm. It came from the inside of the lunch bag. Then he remembered. It was the taffy-on-the-stick. Quickly he turned back. Mr. and Mrs. Shagg were just disappearing behind the trunk of a tree. But not so with Tumble Curls; she was still watching after him. Little Black Bear now retraced his steps, fumbling in the paper bag as he went.

“Here,” he said, as he reached Tumble Curls’ side. “Here: maybe you’d like to have it.” And he thrust the taffy-on-the-stick into her hands and then ran away as fast as ever he could. He recalled how he had twice been tempted to eat the sweetmeat but had not; and he was glad.

Soon he reached the point where meadows 191 came to meet the forest; and there, quietly cropping the grass, stood the White-White Horse.

“Did you find your story?” asked a voice, while, as if to accompany the words, the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes danced, smilingly, toward him.

“Oh, Pretty Lady, it was a wonderful story,” cried Little Black Bear. “You see—”

“Not yet,” answered she, “It’s not to be told until we get back to the menagerie tent. So make haste to scramble to the top of yonder treestump, while I bring the White-White Horse to the side of it.”

A moment later, Little Black Bear had climbed to his place and, just as half-past twilight was about to begin, the three travelers set off with all speed to rejoin those whom they knew were awaiting them.

Just at the moment when the White-White Horse left the forest’s edge to carry the Pretty Lady and Little Black Bear back to Spangleland, Diggeldy Dan might have been seen flitting in and out between the big and little tents on his way to the one which contained “the monkeys, and lions, and tigers and things.” Indeed, the funny old clown in the polka-dot suit skipped along even faster than usual; for he knew that this was the evening that was to bring forth a wonderful story.

As for the animals, they knew this, too. And so, no sooner had Dan’s face appeared through the rift in the wall at the far end of the tent than there arose a cry that threatened to waken all the people of the circus—soundly 193 though they slept. But they slept on, while, as Mrs. Shagg would have put it, Dan and Monkey released the impatient ones in “three whisks and a whee.” To the center they trooped, coming from this cage and that, or out the corrals—leaping and laughing with glee. And just as Lion had brought them to order, in galloped the White-White Horse, bearing his two precious passengers.

“Home again!” echoed Little Black Bear; while all rose to their feet to pay homage to the one with the dancing blue eyes. Dan assisted her to alight while Elephant’s trunk lifted Little Black Bear to a place on the ground.

“Now, then,” said Lion, “I know I speak the wish of every one of you when I say that all are most eager to hear of Little Bear’s adventure in the great, wide world. So if you, Pretty Lady, will accept a seat to my right and Little Black Bear take one at my left, I’m sure we’ll prove a most attentive audience.”

“And I’m just bursting to talk,” declared 194 Little Black Bear, “only I simply can’t sit down to do it; I just have to stand up.”

“Suit yourself as to that,” laughed Lion, “only do begin and don’t leave one thing untold.”

So Little Black Bear, with no end of gestures and no end of wigglings of his wiggley nose, told the entire wondrous story from beginning to end. Then, when he had finished, there came whole dozens of questions, all of which he answered as best he knew how.

“Let’s draw straws again!” cried Monkey, “to see who’ll be the next to go after a story.”

“Oh, I shall be very glad to carry another passenger away with me,” answered she, “only I think it would be more fun if we this time made the selection by counting out.”

“To be sure,” she replied. “First you must all form in a circle. You, Little Black Bear, will stand here with me, for of course you’ve 195 already had your adventure. Now,” she continued, when the great ring had been made, “we will begin.” And she started around the circle, repeating the words which you shall hear while touching an animal with the tip of her whip with each word that spoke:

“Of course that first time was just for practice. But now we will start in earnest, and the one who is touched by the whip when I speak the word ‘out’ must at once step aside. Thus we will continue until but one remains and that one will be the next to go galloping away on the White-White Horse.”

So the counting began. Out went Zebra and out went Seal and so on from one to another until at last there remained only Tiger and Dan.

“And now, that I may have no way of knowing which of you I shall touch when I speak the first word of the rhyme, I will ask 196 Lion to place his paws tightly over my eyes,” the Pretty Lady requested.

“Now,” warned she, when her eyes had been covered, “are they ready, Lion?”

Down dipped the whip, and the Lady began touching first one and then the other, while all those who were out joined in the lines of the rhyme. And then, when it had brought them to the very last word, all fairly shouted a tremendous “OUT!”

At the same moment Lion dropped his paws from the Pretty Lady’s eyes and there was the tip of her whip resting on Tiger’s left ear!

“Indeed he will,” promised the Pretty Lady, “for I know exactly where to take him. Only he may have to be absent over one twilight.”

“Let us start at once, then,” the Pretty Lady commanded, “for we have a long way to go.”

Off dashed the animals and were soon back in their homes. Dan locked the last door and then, twirling about on one foot and waving a farewell in every direction, he danced down the tent and jumped to the back of the White-White Horse. The Pretty Lady had already sprung to her seat. Dan once beside her, she touched the snow-white steed and the journey into twilight-land was begun.

Onward and still onward they galloped. Soon darkness had come but the White-White Horse gave no sign of a halt. Now he went skimming up the side of a hill and then down the face of another. But at last, as the travelers reached the brow of an unusually steep slope, they came in sight of the big, yellow moon just as it was on the point of rousing itself from the top of a more distant hill. And it was here the White-White Horse stopped so suddenly that Dan was all but tossed from his seat.

198 Catching his balance, the clown gazed over the Pretty Lady’s shoulder. Before and beneath them, and to the right and the left of them, stretched a bit of a valley that seemed fast asleep. Some of its sides were covered with corn fields while others were checkered with patches of wheat. These crept downward to the very edge of a dark clump of raggedy trees that grew on the floor of the valley. In the midst of the trees—but standing much higher than the tallest of them—was a queerly shaped tower. Now it seemed to be thrusting its head into the moon’s great, round face. It resembled nothing so much as a huge grandfather’s clock. But what could a clock be doing in such a strange place?

“You are to go into the valley,” she whispered, her face placed close to his very white ear. “Two things you are to remember: Be ever so careful as to just where you step; and, if you are asked why you have come, always answer ‘Dickory Dock.’”

199 Dan would have liked more instructions but, just as he opened his lips to question the Lady, the White-White Horse whirled about in his tracks and was gone in the direction whence they had come.

“Well, well,” said Dan to himself, “I guess there is but one thing to do and that is to go into the valley and see what I’ll find there.” So he started off down the slope. Soon he entered a corn patch. As he neared the middle of it he was joined by a breeze that rustled the long leaves until they fairly sang at its touch. It was a soft, murmuring tune, with a gay little quirk, and so filled with happiness that Dan soon found himself singing a song of his own. How long he might have sung there is no way of knowing, for he was still in the midst of the melody, when he felt a sharp tugging at the great ruffled collar that circled his neck. Thinking the collar had caught upon something, he turned to see what it was. And there holding to a cornstalk while he jerked at the edge of the ruff, was a most indignant mouse!

“So! I’ve finally brought you to a halt,” squeaked the stranger. “Didn’t you hear me 200 shouting at you when you entered the corn field? You clumsy fellow—you almost stepped on my sentry box!”

Dan thought he had never before seen quite such a mouse. Not that his face was unlike that of other mice, but because of the dress that he wore. This consisted of a jaunty cap with a plume in it, a red coat adorned with two rows of tiny brass buttons, and trousers that were braided with gold stripes down the sides. Around his waist ran a belt and from this hung a sword.

“That means nothing to me,” interrupted the other, “so I shall have to ask you to leave here at once.”

“But, nothing,” returned the mouse. “Begone, I say, or I shall summon the guard without more ado.”

“Oh!” he hastened to say, “I almost 201 forgot.” And bending over, he whispered, “Dickory Dock.”

“Well, now, that’s different,” cried the mouse in the friendliest tone, imaginable. “But why in the world didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“I’ll confess I just didn’t think,” answered Dan. “The Pretty Lady told me to repeat the words to whomever I met; but you see—well, I guess I hardly expected to—to—”

“To be challenged by a mere little mouse,” supplied the guard, as he sent forth a tiny but none the less merry laugh.

“And I was also told to watch where I stepped,” added Dan. “I hope I didn’t harm the sentry box of which you spoke.”

“Not a speck. But tell me what you are and what we may have the honor of doing for you?”

“Hum,” mused the mouse, “I’m sure I don’t know whether we can supply any sort of a story, but I assure you we will be most happy to serve you and the animals of Spangleland in any way possible. As for myself, I 202 will be delighted to escort you, for I think I hear the relief guard coming this way now. Hi! down there,” he called, as if speaking to some one at the foot of the cornstalks, “that you, Skipper? All right—thought I knew your step. A quiet watch to you. I’m off to accompany a friend down the valley.”

Then, turning to Dan, he added, “You walk right along and I’ll just hop from stalk to stalk until we get out of the corn patch.”

“Oh, as to that, you may run if you wish. You see we of the Jumping Dragoons pride ourselves on our ability to go long distances in a very little time.”

Nevertheless they proceeded leisurely, chatting as they descended. Beader—for such proved to be the name of Dan’s escort—explained many things as they went and was just on the point of answering Dan’s question about the thing that looked so much like a grandfather’s clock when they reached the floor of the valley.

“Here,” said the mouse, “we enter the town proper. And,” he added, making a very 203 low bow, “Beader takes pride in being the first to welcome you to the Valley of Tick Tock.”

So Dan hearkened. And out of the silence there came a slow and very measured and very musical sound. It was as if an ocean were not far away or a brook had come to make its home near the trees. But, unlike the boom of the surf or the song of a stream, this strange voice sang a much different tune. Indeed, as Dan listened, he could plainly hear it say—“Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!”

“Now,” Beader broke in, “if you will be careful as to where you step and follow me closely, we will soon be in the main part of the town.”

Thus, he of the Jumping Dragoons leaping in advance—his red coat a bright splotch in the moonlight—Dan followed him, wonderingly.

As Dan, guided by Beader, entered the town that lay in the center of the Valley of Tick Tock, he saw that it had been built so that the trees stood at the foot of it while the corn patches and the wheat fields stretched on both sides and one end. From the fields and the woods streets ran hither and thither at all sorts of angles. These were lined with no end of queer houses. Some were of sticks, and some were of weeds and still others were made of very fine grass. Now and then appeared a dwelling more imposing than the rest. There was one that must have been quite three stories high. All the houses faced on extremely scant roadways that could not have been more than two-mouses wide.

205 But the street over which Beader took Dan was of a far different kind. Indeed, it was almost as broad as a path in a park. It was well sprinkled with sand and along both its sides were rows of tall corn. Dan was about to ask if the street had a name when he noted a sign fixed to the top of a stick. Stooping down he read:

And so, very shortly, he and his guide had reached the heart of the town. Here, looking down, the visitor saw that they had stopped before what he judged was the armory. In front of it stood a sentry box made from the half of a corncob with windows cut in the sides. Out of this stepped a mouse dressed exactly like Beader, only in place of a sword he carried a lantern.

“Dickory Dock,” said the other. Then the two of them came to salute after which Beader unbuckled his belt and handed it and the sword to the one with the lantern.

206 “Now, then,” cried he, “I’m off duty till to-morrow! So, if you don’t mind, I’ll come up there to your shoulder and conduct you wherever you may care to go.”

“Do so, by all means,” answered Diggeldy Dan; and soon the other was perched on the folds of his ruff.

“Of course,” began Beader, as he unbuttoned the top of his rather tight-fitting coat, “you must understand that this particular town is only one of several here in the valley. There is Stubbleton where the Fielders live and that’s over in that direction. And there is Nightsville, where most of the Muskers make their home. It’s back yonder at the edge of the pond. Then there’s Dorton—that’s the Dormice settlement and it lies well in among the trees. But it is here that we hold most of our gatherings. I do wish you had been with us last evening. There was a most exciting drill between the Jumping Dragoons and the Nightsville Musketeers. We beat them all hollow at marching but we couldn’t put up our tents quite as fast as they.”

“It must have been great sport,” said Dan, 207 “I wish there was something for us to see to-night.”

“Goodness, I wish so too,” answered Beader. “If it were only Clock Night. But it isn’t for this is but the Day Before.”

“The Day Before Clock Night. You see we of the Valley of Tick Tock have only two kinds of days. There is the Day Before Clock Night and Clock Night Day; then it becomes the Day Before Clock Night again; and so on—over and over and over again.”

“Why because—but listen! What is that?” and Beader stood up and put his head to one side. “Why, of course!” he exclaimed. “It’s the voices of the Fielders. They must be out harvesting. If you’ve never been to a moonlight harvest bee I know you’ll enjoy it. So come, let’s get over to the wheat field as fast as we can.”

Off they went, taking another path which led in a direction opposite from that by which 208 they had entered the town. Soon they were at the edge of the field. As they neared it Dan’s guide had leaped to the ground and gone on in advance.

“Beader, of the Dragoons,” the clown heard him shout, “and I’m bringing a friend with me.”

“Now,” said Beader to Dan, “if you don’t mind getting down on your knees, you’ll be able to see fairly well.”

Dan did still more; he stretched out quite flat and, with his chin propped in his hands, peered in among the stalks of sweet-smelling wheat. Of course there was the moon to help out but, as any one knows who has peeped into a field even on the brightest of nights, there is little save darkness in the depths underneath. So what was the visitor’s surprise to see there quite clearly whole dozens of workers as busy as bees.

Yes, there they all were, around a mite of a bonfire that was scarcely larger than five candle flames. Yet, small as it was, it sent out its flickerings in every direction and so lighted 209 the wheat stalks for a full yard away. Still other Fielders rushed about through the forest, carrying lanterns and tiny leaf baskets. Up the stalks they would go, fill their baskets with wheat, scurry back to the ground, take their loads to the fireside, and then hurry away to do it all over again.

“The Fielders are the very best of all the harvesters,” said Beader, who had by now taken a seat just under the end of Dan’s long, funny nose. “They have a system for everything they do. Those that you see sitting near the fire are the sack makers. They gather leaves and fashion them into the bags that hold all the wheat. Those who are filling the bags are called the sackers. They are mostly the younger Fielders, as are those who bring straws to keep up the fire. The most important workers are the gleaners. They must be good climbers and able to judge the very best wheat. Hey, there, Friend Nibbler,” Beader suddenly cried to a rather large mouse who seemed to be directing the work, “can you spare a moment?”

“Never too busy to pass the time of night,” 210 answered the one called Nibbler, as he came toward them.

“This is Diggeldy Dan,” introduced Beader. “It’s his first time at a harvest bee. Nibbler is in charge of the harvesting.”

“It’s all very interesting,” returned Dan, “though from what I’ve seen it mustn’t be very difficult to keep things going.”

“Everything does move pretty smoothly so far as the older Fielders go,” agreed Nibbler, “but I have a number of youngsters among the sackers and some of them can’t count as well as they might. You see the bags are made to hold exactly fifty grains apiece and if more goes in—especially if they are unusually fat grains—two or three too many may mean the splitting of a bag. And then some of the other lads will stop to play when they are out gathering straws and so let the fire get low. See! It needs more fuel this very minute! So if you’ll excuse me I’ll go see to it.”

And away he went in search of the boys who, as Dan plainly saw, were at that moment 211 in the midst of a game of hide-and-go-seek just beyond the edge of the light.

“After the grains have been sacked,” Beader continued to explain, “the bags are put away in storehouses for winter use. Our people of the town—that is to say, the House-mice—trade cheese and cakes for wheat. We also harvest quite a bit of corn.”

“Oh, dear, no,” answered the other. “There are nuts, and the Muskers, for instance, simply dote on apples. We always have an apple-rolling when apples are ripe. That’s the best fun of all. Sometimes we get an apple well up the side of a slope and then somebody starts laughing and it slips away and goes scooting back again.”

“No, indeed. To begin with I guess no one but the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes and the White-White Horse would know how to find us. And,” Beader added, drawing himself up to his full height, “even if they did 212 there are the Jumping Dragoons and the Nightsville Musketeers. Some of us are always on guard.”

“Of course, of course,” agreed Dan, very seriously, and very solemnly. “But tell me, how is it you call yourselves dragoons and yet have no horses?”

“Oh, but we have. You see, I’m a dragoon only on every Day Before Clock Night. On Clock Night Day I’m a horse. That’s the way we do in almost everything. We take turns. I wasn’t riding my mouse-horse to-night because we do that only when we drill.”

“I see,” said Dan, “but about the different clock days. You were to tell me—”

“Oh, look! Look!” broke in Beader. “There, coming down that biggest stalk. It’s Bounder, isn’t it? Why, of course it’s Bounder! Who but he could do such a thing. See! He’s bringing down a whole head at one time and I’ll warrant there isn’t a lean grain in all of it. I must speak to him.”

Off he sprang and in two jumps had reached the side of the one called Bounder. Up went 213 one end of the head to his shoulder and then, amid the cheers of the others, the red-coated dragoon and the good-natured Bounder carried the prize to the feet of the sackers. Of course there was visiting and more or less handshaking that might have kept up even longer than it did had not Nibbler come up just then and ordered everybody back to their various tasks.

“Fine folks, those Fielders, fine folks,” vowed Beader, as he joined Dan a half-minute after. “I do hope you’ll have time to get over to Stubbleton to-morrow. They’d not be able to do enough for you.”

“Wha—what did you say,” asked Dan, suddenly lifting his head. “Please, do forgive me—I really believe I was nodding!”

“And no wonder!” cried Beader. “We’ve already visited well into the morning. But what a night it is! And what a moon! I say, it’s really too nice to sleep indoors even if we had a roof that would cover you. So what do you say if we both make our beds in the corn patch that lies just across from this field?”

“Nothing would suit me better,” declared Dan. So he and Beader set out for the patch.

214 “Here’s just the place for me,” said the mouse as he curled himself up at the foot of a stalk.

“While this space to the left must have been just measured for me,” echoed Dan.

“So, then, good night,” answered Beader. “And mind you, just sleep as long as you like for I assure you you’ll not be disturbed.”

But, though Dan had nodded while watching the Fielders, the walk to the corn patch had roused him again. As he lay there looking out through the leaves into the face of the moon he was reminded of the time when he had gone to sleep with his head on Gray Ears’ great trunk. The night was quite as still as the one he had passed in the depths of the woods. Yet, just as there had then been the song of the cricket so now was there a sound to accompany his thoughts. He had all but forgotten it while attending the harvest bee. But now he heard it more distinctly than ever. Whether it came from the south or the north, or came from the west or the east he could not be sure. Perhaps it was wafted on breezes that swung over the hills. But, from no matter whence, 215 the sound floated toward him: “Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.”

“Oh, Beader,” he called, determined to find out just what it was that gave forth the strange note. “Oh, Beader.”

But Beader was fast, fast asleep. So Dan said no more. And soon he, too, had followed the example of the little dragoon, while all through the valley went the voice that seemed never to sleep, saying “Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock—”

Having tarried in Slumberland until well into the morning, Dan finally made known his intention of quitting it by rolling his head to one side, wrinkling the end of his long, funny nose, and puckering his forehead in the very same spot where his brow was adorned with a red polka dot. Still, he did not at once rouse himself. In fact, so to put it, he really awakened a bit at a time. And it was while he was not yet more than half, or, at the very most, only two-thirds awake, that he felt something tickling the tops of his knees. This caused him to wiggle the ends of his toes and to pucker his brow even more than before. But the tickling persisted and so, at last fully awakened, he opened his eyes and sat straight up between the tall stalks of corn.

At the sound of it, Dan looked to the right and looked to the left. But naught could he see save the green of the corn and the splashes of sunlight that patterned the ground.

“Here we are—out here!” again called the voice. And looking down, Dan saw a most remarkable sight. There, drawn up in two lines along the ridge of his legs and extending well over his knees, were two entire companies of the Jumping Dragoons. He knew them at once, for all wore coats, caps and trousers that were exact copies of Beader’s; while, square at the head of them, astride a mouse in silver-trimmed trappings, was none other than that worthy, himself.

“My, my; we thought you never would waken!” exclaimed Dan’s guide of the night, “but now that you have, allow me to present my comrades of the Micetown Dragoons.” At the precise moment that Beader pronounced the “goons” in dragoons, he drew his sword from its scabbard and held it fixed at salute while, with a rattle and swish and a 218 flourishing flip, all the rest of the mice followed suit.

“My respects to you to all and a good wish for each one,” returned Dan, as he bowed as best he could sitting down, “I assure you I am honored by this courtly attention.”

“Now then, fall out!” Beader commanded, “and make haste to bring forward our guest’s breakfast rations.” Off Dan’s legs they all tumbled; down past his feet they all went, and were soon coming back carrying whole dozens of morsels of cream cheese and cake. These they piled high in Dan’s willing lap and, a half-minute after, the clown was eating his fill while the red-coated dragoons perched upon his knees, feet and shoulders—visiting and chattering for quite all they were worth.

“I suppose you are surprised to see me in uniform after what I told you last night,” Beader said. “But, since it was I who first guided you, all the dragoons insisted that I should lead them to the corn patch this morning. Besides, Plunger didn’t mind being a horse for to-day. Did you, Plunger?” he appealed to the mouse upon whose back he sat.

219 “Ne—he—he,” answered Plunger, shaking his head and pawing Dan’s ruff with one foot.

“He means, ‘No, not a bit,’” Beader explained. “You see it is one of our rules that when a dragoon is a horse he is not to utter a word. He may only whinny, or say ‘no’ or ‘yes’ with his head.”

“That over with, we will prepare to move to the square,” announced Beader. “Dragoons fall in!”

At this word from their leader, the others all sprang to the furrow and were soon once more at attention.

“Forwar—r—r—d, ha!” came from Beader. Onward they marched until the rear of their lines had passed well beyond the clown’s feet.

“Halt!” ordered Beader. “Now then, you, Diggeldy Dan, will march just behind the tails that come last. You, band-mice, will take up your position just behind Dan.”

With this last command a group of beady-eyed fellows swung into view from an adjoining 220 furrow. They wore jackets of green that contrasted in most lively fashion with their pink pantaloons and still pinker hats. As for instruments, there were what one might have called fifes, which were made by placing blades of green grass between two whittled sticks; and fully two dozen drums fashioned from corncobs with the ends covered over with well-seasoned husks. On the head of the largest drum, Dan read the words:

The players were led by an unusually tall mouse who seemed all the taller because of the great plush hat that he wore. This was held in place by a strap that passed under his chin. He carried a glistening stick, with a knob at one end, which he spun high overhead as he marched. Dan knew him at once; it was Bounder, who had garnered the whole head of wheat.

Thus brought into formation by Beader—their mile-high guest towering above them—the mice slowly emerged from the corn patch. 221 Soon they had reached one of the broad, sanded paths that led into the town. Already the merry notes of the fifes and the rattle of drums heralded the procession’s approach. Small wonder, then, that windows were jammed with vast numbers of spectators and the sides of the avenue simply gray with the crowd. Many of the younger mice had climbed up the corn stalks that bordered the street, while others trailed in the rear of the drummers or kept pace with Bounder as he twirled his baton.

Beader, astride Plunger, was everywhere at once, so it seemed: First at the head of the column and then at the back of it; now along one flank and now down the other—giving this order or that in a manner that called forth much admiration. At each of the corners were important mice in blue coats who waved back the throngs as the marchers drew near and touched their helmets as Dan passed their stations.

Such were the scenes that greeted Dan’s eyes as the procession moved onward to finally arrive at the square. Big as it was, the plaza 222 looked to be completely carpeted with mice. These were of every color and size and all smartly attired in holiday dress. On a central platform was another mouse band. Its players blew lustily on pipes and on horns that were made from parts of wheat stalks. Just in front of the bandstand—but on a different and still higher platform—stood a table and, behind the table, four chairs in a row. As for decorations—there, seemed to be no end of them. Bandstand and platform were draped with bunting, and flags and gay pennants fluttered forth on all sides.

Now, at the point where Dan had come to a halt was a wide-spreading tree whose undermost branches just tipped the top of his sugar-loaf hat. This tree shaded the greater part of the square. Looking up from the scene that lay at his feet, the clown noticed a string dangling quite near his nose. Following the length of it with a curious eye, he saw that it passed through a miniature pulley that was fixed to a branch of the tree. One half of the string ran down at a slant to be lost at a point where the Jumping Dragoons had been 223 drawn up at attention. The other part of the string hung almost straight down until it reached the table that stood on the platform. And now Dan saw that a flag had been placed over the top of the table and that the end of the string passed under the folds of it. Even as he looked there came a stir in the crowd and another in the branches that spread near his head. Glancing up, he saw Beader spring to his shoulder and, again looking down, beheld four exceedingly dignified mice ascending the steps that led to the platform. All wore glossy silk hats, which were removed as they reached the top of the steps and then carefully placed under the four separate chairs that stood in a row near the table. Then they sat down and began mopping their brows with handkerchiefs which they drew from their pockets.

“They are our mayors,” Beader imparted, as the band struck up an entirely new air, “of Dorton, of Nightsville, of Stubbleton, and here.”

The band again silent, the most portly mouse advanced to the flag-covered table.

“Friends and fellow mice,” began the speaker, “we are gathered here to-day to welcome to our midst one who has traveled from afar. We have—”

And standing there with his head against the branches—Beader whispering explanations of all that was not clear to him—Dan listened to this welcoming speech.

“And now, in conclusion,” said the mayor, “I have, in the name of all our villages, the honor of presenting Diggeldy Dan, with the key to the Valley of Tick Tock.” As he said this he lifted one hand in signal toward the companies of Jumping Dragoons. Instantly Dan saw that the red-coated ones had taken hold of that end of the string which lay nearest them. Now they ran outward quite as if they were playing at tug-of-war. At the same moment the string tightened in the pulley, and then—up from the table came the flag. As it unfurled to the breeze, Dan saw that its emblem was a sheaf of bright yellow wheat. Under the flag hung a bit of free string and, 225 fast to the end of it—spinning and glittering as it came—was a golden key scarcely longer than Dan’s little finger! In a second the key had been drawn up on a level with his face and, prompted by Beader, the clown untied it amid wave upon wave of heartiest cheers and the gayest of gala-day music.

While the huzzas were in progress any who were not looking at Dan might have noted that the four on the platform were in close consultation. A moment later Mayor Mouser again waved for attention.

“I am happy to say that I have still another announcement to make,” said he, when silence had fallen. “Of course the greater part of our guest’s day and evening will be taken up with the tour of the valley. But this, as we all know, being Clock Day Night, I ask that all of you who can possibly do so, be in the square at midnight. For it has been unanimously decided that Diggeldy Dan is to accompany us to Hear the Clock Strike One!”

Cheer after cheer greeted this news. Again Dan was reminded of the queer tower that he had seen among the trees when he first entered 226 the valley. Again he recalled the strange sound that had lulled him to sleep. He wondered if these things were to play a part in the promised adventure. But there was no time to ask. Already Beader had descended to the ground and was bringing the dragoons to attention; already a new procession was being formed to escort Dan on his tour through the Valley of Tick Tock.

Now Bounder had begun to twirl his stick Skyward and the fifes to make merry and the drums to beat. So, still wondering—the golden key clasped tightly in one hand—Dan marched from the plaza, bowing first one way and then the other to the crowd or waving his pointed hat toward wee mice-in-arms that were held upward to claim his attention.

Now should you ever, like Dan, some day visit the Valley of Tick Tock, and, reaching the plaza that lies in the very center of Micetown, take eleven steps to the east and then ten to the south, you would, like as not, come upon a vine-covered mound something of the width, the shape and the height of a haycock. And were you to thrust the vines to one side, you would find that they covered the face of two wooden doors, so fashioned and hinged as to part in the middle. But did you seek to open them to learn what might be concealed underneath, you would discover that something forbade you to do so. And after you had tugged, and then tugged again, and probably said “Oh, dear,” at your failure, you would seek out the reason and find it to be a stout and wholly unyielding lock.

228 But this is something with which you will doubtless never contend. Not that you will never visit the valley, but because, if you do, you will most likely be accompanied as was Diggeldy Dan. For, at the end of the day and the first hours of the night spent in journeys to Stubbleton, Dorton and Nightsville, the clown found himself marching toward this very same knoll that has been described as resembling a haycock.

What a marvelous multitude attended him! Of course there were the dragoons, and there were the bands, and there were the mayors,—all four of them. The latter now rode in splendid corncob carriages, drawn by mice in harness and plumes and driven by others with cockades on their hats. At the rear and both sides walked mice in such numbers, and so packed together, that as Dan looked down on them it seemed as though the very ground was in motion. And when, now and then, the vast procession came to a pause—as processions are likely to do—there was not the slightest bit of confusion. This was because every mouse instantly stepped on the tail of that mouse 229 who walked just in front of him and so held him quite fast just as he, in turn, was held in his tracks by the one who came to a halt right behind him.

Nearly all had brought lamps. These were not carried but were fastened to the caps that all of them wore. This gave the throng a most picturesque look. It made Dan think of a torchlight procession and, again, of the lights that jewel a town when one views it from some distant hillside. Just why the mice had been provided with lamps Dan could not guess; for the moon now floated high in the skies and flooded every inch of the way. But he was soon to find out, for it was not long before the mayors drew up in the lee of the knoll that looked so much like a haycock. Up the vines went the dragoons and, pulling this way and that, quickly bared the two doors to full view. Next Mayor Mouser and his companions alighted. Looking back, Dan saw that all the attending throng were standing upon each other’s tails as though awaiting some momentous event.

“Advance to the portals, Diggeldy Dan!” 230 cried Mayor Mouser, as he waved toward the tightly locked doors. With two strides the clown stood before them.

“Right here in my hand,” Dan made haste to reply, as he held the object on high that all might observe it.

“Then, be it known to you that that which you hold is the key to the underground passage—the passage that leads to the Clock.

“Are we all ready?” called Mayor Mouser, as he leaped to the seat of his carriage the better to look back across the vast sea of faces that stretched for yard after yard down the avenue.

“Yes, yes!” answered a thousand and one voices as their owners danced with impatience upon a thousand and one tails.

At this command the clown dropped to both knees. Quickly he thrust the key in the lock and turned it as swiftly with a twist to the right. As he did so the dragoons swung the two doors apart. And there, before him, 231 and leading into the knoll, was a tunnel as black as the darkest of nights.

Into this curious passage leaped the van of the column, waving bright torches high overhead. The bands followed after and next came the mayors—all four of them—marching abreast.

Now Dan had sunk down on his knees when he unlocked the doors and so was quite in a position to enter the passage—not walking upright, as you may well suppose, but moving along on “all fours.”

Down, down and still downward they all traveled. Around and around they all wound their way. Now and then the passage opened into galleries of considerable size. Still other tunnels branched into these and from out of them trooped yet other mice to join in the endless procession.

“They are those who have entered the tunnels that join this larger one as it winds under Dorton, Stubbleton and Nightsville,” Beader explained. “But we have passed the last galleries and will soon be in the Great Room. You may even now be able to see the lights up ahead.”

232 And Dan could. There, far beyond and above the heads of the mice that marched in front of him, was a faint yellow glow. This grew brighter and wider as they advanced. Then, two minutes after, the column entered the room that Beader had promised.

The Great Room was quite big enough to allow Dan to stand upright. Its walls formed an oblong and along these walls were an almost countless number of balconies to the railings of which scores of torches were fixed. Dozens upon dozens of tiny stairways ran from the balconies while still other flights connected the higher ones with those that were under them. The room had no furnishings. Its floor was of stone and worn almost to a polish as though it had been visited time after time by thousands after thousands of feet.

Having observed this much, Dan looked overhead. It was then he discovered that the room had no ceiling. At first he thought he was peering into the skies, so deep was the gloom up above. But, try as he would, no stars could he see nor yet so much as a glint of the moon. Indeed, there was nothing but 233 the rather dim outline of a most confusing something that swung first to right and then to the left like the pendulum that sways in a clock.

“Like the pendulum that sways in a clock,” puzzled Dan, as he put his thoughts into words. “Why is it a pendulum!”

Even as he spoke his ears detected the steady “tick-tock, tick-tock” that he had heard when he first entered the valley. And the sound came from a point right over his head! Now he knew; now his eyes, grown accustomed to the gloom, told him he was right. He was looking up into the great tower—the tower that he had seen with its head thrust through the trees. And, as if to favor the watcher, the moon at that moment sent some of its beams through a chink at the top, plainly disclosing whole mazes of wheels and two hands of tremendous size. The hour lacked but five minutes of one!

“Yes,” said Beader, who had by this time mounted to Dan’s ruff, “the Great Room is directly under the Clock. And now if you will stand right where you are you will see and hear all that takes place. That’s my balcony 234 up yonder and I must be getting over to it at once.”

Away he scampered and as he did so Dan saw that all the mice were mounting the stairways and climbing to the balconies that bordered the room. In the largest of these, at the center of the topmost tier, a choir was being formed. One who seemed to be the leader gave the pitch now and then by blowing upon a stalk of wheat. Then, at a signal, the chorus began:

These same words were chanted over and over and over again, but with many changes of melody. As the chorus rang through the Great Room, Dan saw that those in the balconies were standing on very tiptoes, as if eager to be off to he knew not where. Suddenly more words were added to the song:

235 “The mice ran up the clock,” sang the voices. Instantly the air seemed filled with flying mice. From every balcony they sprang—mayors, dragoons, band-mice, and all—leaping upon the great pendulum that swung across the width of the room. And, reaching it, up the great shaft they went—upward into the very tower of the Clock. There were those who missed when they jumped. But these picked themselves up in a twinkling, dashed back to the balconies and once more leaped for the pendulum. Now, all others gone, the singers followed their fellows until, at last, only Dan remained in the Great Room.

Then it gave forth a great “bur-r-r-rr” that shook the tower to its very base.

“The mice ran down—” began the singers. But whether the verse was completed Dan could not tell. For, at the boom of “One” the mice fairly rained into the Great Room. Down they came, laughing, tumbling, racing 236 and scrambling pell-mell—all bound for the tunnel that led to the knoll. Into the passage they went, some riding on the backs of their comrades or smaller ones clinging fast to the tails of those who were larger and swifter than they. Last of all came the mayors holding tight to their hats. With such speed did all travel that the echo of “One” had hardly completed its rounds of the tower when the Great Room was empty. Yet not quite empty for, as Dan turned to follow, there came a patter of feet near his own. It was Beader who had returned to escort him back through the passage.

“Wasn’t it fun!” cried the red-coated dragoon as the two of them entered the tunnel.

“Fun!” answered Dan, “why it’s more than that—it’s a story! What a tale I shall have to tell when I get back to the menagerie tent! But, now that I have my story, I suppose I should be returning to the corn patch where we first met, for it may be that the Pretty Lady will be waiting to carry me back to Spangleland.”

“Then we will take this passage to the left,” 237 said Beader. “It will bring us out but a few steps from there.” So the two pressed forward with no light to guide them save the wee lamp that the dragoon wore in his cap. Suddenly Beader stopped.

“I heard it, too,” chimed Dan. “It was a neigh! The White-White Horse must be near the mouth of the passage. Come, let us hurry.”

Soon they were standing in the moonlight and there, sure enough, was the one with the Blue-Blue Eyes.

“I knew you were coming,” she said. “I could hear your voices under the ground. But now you must bid Beader farewell, else we will never reach the circus by dawn.”

“A good-by to you, Diggeldy Dan,” the dragoon cried warmly, as the clown sprang to his seat. “And do come and visit us again some day.”

“Indeed, I shall try,” called Dan in return as the White-White Horse started off down the slope. And looking back he could see that 238 Beader had mounted to the top of a cornstalk. There he stood, waving his plumed cap over his head, his red coat a bright spot in the moonlight.

Soon the hoofs of the White-White Horse began to play a soft tattoo on the turf and the Pretty Lady’s laugh to ring merrily in tune with it. But these sounds could not shut out another that Dan fancied still filled the air. It seemed to come from the fast receding valley, growing fainter and fainter and fainter, yet still saying, “Tick-took, tick-tock, tick-took.”

So we will leave Dan here—leave him as he is being carried back to the great menagerie tent where (you may be very sure) he told every wee bit of the tiniest part of his adventure to the animals who awaited his coming. “And, after that?” you no doubt are asking, “did he return to see Beader? Or ever again go adventuring with Gray Ears, the Elephant? And the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes; did she carry more of the animals into the wide wide world on the White-White Horse? And did Dan—”

“But how is one to know when there are no more pages that tell?” you persist.

How, indeed! And yet there is a way. For one may always summon those two marvelous playfellows, Guess and Suppose , and with them seek out even Diggeldy Dan. And, having caught up with him, you’ll find the blue-eyed one, too; and (like as not) Lion, and Monkey, and Tiger, and Seal, and the rest of the whole merry crew. For none of them is ever a great ways away,—at least no farther than the circus is near.

“But,” you enquire, after considering this plan for a minute or more, “will they talk to me when once I do find them?”

Perhaps. And yet you must not be sad if 240 they will not. Instead, you should recall what Gray Ears once said in speaking to Dan. “Unless I am away from the circus, I rarely talk to any one,” he warned. “Indeed you might spend months upon months with the Very Biggest Circus and yet never hear one of its animals utter so much as a word.”

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Chapter		Page

I	In Which Dan Meets the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes	3

II	In Which Dan Hears the Message from Too-Bo-Tan	12

III	In Which Dan Releases the Animals of Spangleland	18

IV	In Which the Animals Elect Officers	25

V	In Which Giraffe Gives a Chalk-Talk and the Animals Learn a New Game	31

VI	In Which the Animals Send a Message to the Pretty Lady	37

VII	In Which the Animals Meet with a Disappointment and a Surprise and a Story is Begun	43

VIII	In Which the Pretty Lady Continues Her Story	53

IX	In Which the Pretty Lady Concludes Her Story	62

X	In Which the Pretty Lady Tells of Mysteries and Spangles	70

XI	In Which the Animals Play at Circus and Dan Promises a Story	79

XII	In Which Dan Answers the Beckoning Trees	88

XIII	In Which Dan Learns of Peanuts and Things	98

x XIV	In Which Dan Parts with Old Friends and Prepares to Claim a Reward	108

XV	In Which Dan and Gray Ears Arrive at Their Goal	118

XVI	In Which Dan Joins the Very Biggest Circus	130

XVII	In Which the Animals Entertain an Unexpected Caller	139

XVIII	In Which the Pretty Lady Carries a Passenger into the Wide Wide World	149

XIX	In Which Little Black Bear Spends a Night in the Forest	159

XX	In Which Little Black Bear Meets Shagg, the Carpenter	169

XXI	In Which Little Black Bear Adds Still More to His Story	181

XXII	In Which Dan Meets Beader, of the Jumping Dragoons	192

XXIII	In Which Dan Spends a Night in the Valley of Tick Tock	204

XXIV	In Which Dan is Presented with the Key to the Valley	216

XXV	In Which Dan Hears the Clock Strike One	227

XXVI	We Say Goodbye to Diggeldy Dan	239

“‘Who—may—you—be?’ exclaimed the four in surprise”	Frontispiece

In a very twinkling, there appeared the most beautiful circus lady one ever laid eyes upon	Page 10

Away they all went, down through the line	„ 35

“Then he picked up his left foot and began to use its toes for counters”	„ 59

And so this strangest of all circuses began	„ 83

“Something came from out the air, and swept me square off my toes”	„ 95

Little Black Bear gladly did his tricks over and over again	„ 185

At the boom of “One” the mice fairly rained into the Great Room	„ 235

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Diggeldy Dan

THE ADVENTURES OF DIGGELDY DAN

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I
IN WHICH DAN MEETS THE PRETTY LADY WITH THE BLUE-BLUE EYES

CHAPTER II
IN WHICH DAN HEARS THE MESSAGE FROM TOO-BO-TAN

CHAPTER III
IN WHICH DAN RELEASES THE ANIMALS OF SPANGLELAND

CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH THE ANIMALS ELECT OFFICERS

CHAPTER V
IN WHICH GIRAFFE GIVES A CHALK-TALK AND THE ANIMALS LEARN A NEW GAME

CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH THE ANIMALS SEND A MESSAGE TO THE PRETTY LADY

CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH THE ANIMALS MEET WITH A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A SURPRISE AND A STORY IS BEGUN

CHAPTER VIII
IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONTINUES HER STORY

CHAPTER IX
IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONCLUDES HER STORY

CHAPTER X
IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY TELLS OF MYSTERIES AND SPANGLES

CHAPTER XI
IN WHICH THE ANIMALS PLAY AT CIRCUS AND DAN PROMISES A STORY

CHAPTER XII
IN WHICH DAN ANSWERS THE BECKONING TREES

CHAPTER XIII
IN WHICH DAN LEARNS OF PEANUTS AND THINGS

CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH DAN PARTS WITH OLD FRIENDS AND PREPARES TO CLAIM A REWARD

CHAPTER XV
IN WHICH DAN AND GRAY EARS ARRIVE AT THEIR GOAL

CHAPTER XVI
IN WHICH DAN JOINS THE VERY BIGGEST CIRCUS

CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH THE ANIMALS ENTERTAIN AN UNEXPECTED CALLER

CHAPTER XVIII
IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CARRIES A PASSENGER INTO THE WIDE WIDE WORLD

CHAPTER XIX
IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR SPENDS A NIGHT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER XX
IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR MEETS SHAGG, THE CARPENTER

CHAPTER XXI
IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR ADDS STILL MORE TO HIS STORY

CHAPTER XXII
IN WHICH DAN MEETS BEADER, OF THE JUMPING DRAGOONS

CHAPTER XXIII
IN WHICH DAN SPENDS A NIGHT IN THE VALLEY OF TICK TOCK

CHAPTER XXIV
IN WHICH DAN IS PRESENTED WITH THE KEY TO THE VALLEY

CHAPTER XXV
IN WHICH DAN HEARS THE CLOCK STRIKE ONE

CHAPTER XXVI
WE SAY GOODBYE TO DIGGELDY DAN

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Diggeldy Dan

THE ADVENTURES OF DIGGELDY DAN

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I IN WHICH DAN MEETS THE PRETTY LADY WITH THE BLUE-BLUE EYES

CHAPTER II IN WHICH DAN HEARS THE MESSAGE FROM TOO-BO-TAN

CHAPTER III IN WHICH DAN RELEASES THE ANIMALS OF SPANGLELAND

CHAPTER IV IN WHICH THE ANIMALS ELECT OFFICERS

CHAPTER V IN WHICH GIRAFFE GIVES A CHALK-TALK AND THE ANIMALS LEARN A NEW GAME

CHAPTER VI IN WHICH THE ANIMALS SEND A MESSAGE TO THE PRETTY LADY

CHAPTER VII IN WHICH THE ANIMALS MEET WITH A DISAPPOINTMENT AND A SURPRISE AND A STORY IS BEGUN

CHAPTER VIII IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONTINUES HER STORY

CHAPTER IX IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CONCLUDES HER STORY

CHAPTER X IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY TELLS OF MYSTERIES AND SPANGLES

CHAPTER XI IN WHICH THE ANIMALS PLAY AT CIRCUS AND DAN PROMISES A STORY

CHAPTER XII IN WHICH DAN ANSWERS THE BECKONING TREES

CHAPTER XIII IN WHICH DAN LEARNS OF PEANUTS AND THINGS

CHAPTER XIV IN WHICH DAN PARTS WITH OLD FRIENDS AND PREPARES TO CLAIM A REWARD

CHAPTER XV IN WHICH DAN AND GRAY EARS ARRIVE AT THEIR GOAL

CHAPTER XVI IN WHICH DAN JOINS THE VERY BIGGEST CIRCUS

CHAPTER XVII IN WHICH THE ANIMALS ENTERTAIN AN UNEXPECTED CALLER

CHAPTER XVIII IN WHICH THE PRETTY LADY CARRIES A PASSENGER INTO THE WIDE WIDE WORLD

CHAPTER XIX IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR SPENDS A NIGHT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER XX IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR MEETS SHAGG, THE CARPENTER

CHAPTER XXI IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR ADDS STILL MORE TO HIS STORY

CHAPTER XXII IN WHICH DAN MEETS BEADER, OF THE JUMPING DRAGOONS

CHAPTER XXIII IN WHICH DAN SPENDS A NIGHT IN THE VALLEY OF TICK TOCK

CHAPTER XXIV IN WHICH DAN IS PRESENTED WITH THE KEY TO THE VALLEY

CHAPTER XXV IN WHICH DAN HEARS THE CLOCK STRIKE ONE

CHAPTER XXVI WE SAY GOODBYE TO DIGGELDY DAN