IN THE DARK, NEVER WAS.
"At last!" cried Billy, when he found himself in Never Was. "But I'll
never again cross a bridge before I come to it--it makes too much
unnecessary trouble." And off he started down the street to find Bogie
Man's house.
There did not seem to be a soul on the streets. Nearly every house that
Billy passed was shut up tight and had a board tacked on the front door
reading, "Gone away for life--back next eternity." Each one was signed
by the owner--and such a lot of names as he read! One was "Hobgoblin,"
another "Gnome," another "Bloody Bones," another was "Wicked Giant,"
another "Cruel Stepmother," another "Boog a Boo," and so on and so on.
In fact, almost every one of the things or people that frighten little
boys and girls, and even some that used to frighten grown-ups, had
left this earth for parts unknown.
"It looks to me," said Billy, "as though Bogie Man was about the only
one of the whole lot who is left, and he seems to be pretty hard to
find."
"Finders losers, keepers weepers," said a voice, and Billy was
surprised to see a little peg-legged man standing in front of him.
"Why!" said Billy, "where did you come from? You are the first person
I've seen here, and I began to think I was the only one in town."
"Don't ever get that idea," said the little man.
"What idea?"
"That you are the only one any place; there are always a few more
better than you are wherever you are."
"I suppose so," said Billy.
"I don't suppose it, I know it, because seeing is not believing."
"What is the meaning of that?"
"That's a secret; some day perhaps I'll not tell you."
"I never heard such nonsense," said Billy, "and I've heard a great deal
the last few days."
"Many a fib is told in jest, you know, but it's not my fault if I do
talk nonsense--that is the misfortune of having a wooden leg," and the
little man made a dab at Billy's toes with his stump.
"What has a wooden leg got to do with it?"
"Nothing at all. I merely mentioned that it is a misfortune to have a
wooden leg."
"I should think it would be hard to bear," said Billy, sympathetically.
"No, because it's already bare. But I shouldn't complain, I make my
living on it."
"Your living--how can that be?"
"I guess you don't know who I am?" and the little man struck an
attitude.
"No, I don't."
"I am Mumbledy Peg, Bogie Man's Official Potato Masher."
"Ugh," said Billy, in disgust, "how dirty!"
"Dirty--why?"
"To mash potatoes with your wooden leg."
"But I don't; I use a potato masher like anybody else."
"Then I don't see why you said you made your living with your wooden
leg."
"I didn't. I said I made my living on it, and I do, because I always
stand up to mash potatoes." And Mumbledy Peg spun around on his wooden
leg in great delight.
"You're making fun of me," said Billy.
"No, you were already funny; I didn't make you so."
[Illustration: _Mumbledy Peg._]
"If you can't talk seriously and without insulting me----" began Billy.
"Tut, tut," interrupted Mumbledy Peg. "If I have insulted you, you are
very sorry, and I sincerely accept your humble apology."
"But I didn't apologize--I had nothing to apologize for."
"Then that shows how generous I am--I accept it anyway," and Mumbledy
Peg held out his hand: "Come, we will shake hands and be good enemies
again." And he looked so merry and good-natured about it that Billy
couldn't resist a smile.
"Didn't you say that you were Bogie Man's official potato masher?"
asked Billy.
"I not only said so, but I am."
"Then you know where he lives."
"Yes, but I've never been there."
"You've never been there?" exclaimed Billy.
"No, of course not. Why should I go there?"
"To mash potatoes, of course."
"Ah! but I said I was the _Official_ potato masher--officials never go
near the office, we let the servants do that," said Mumbledy Peg.
"And you get a high salary for doing nothing?"
"Yes, of course; the higher the salary the less the work, is our motto,
or to be exact, the fewer the higher."
"Perhaps you can direct me to Bogie Man's house."
"Who knows?" said Mumbledy Peg. "I'm willing to try it if you are."
"I am," said Billy. "I am very anxious to deliver a note to him."
"I'll take it for a dime. I love to read notes."
"But you can't read this."
"If it's typewritten I can, and, anyway, if I miss any words, you can
tell them to me."
"But I don't want you to read it, it's not for you," said Billy.
"I'm not particular about that. I could probably find something in it
that would amuse me." And Mumbledy Peg held out his hand for the note,
just as if everything had been settled.
"No, I'd rather take it myself," said Billy.
"Oh! all right, if you're going to be selfish with your old note, go
ahead. But I warn you that you have lost your chance forever to have
the note read, for if you should come to me now and beg me on bended
knee to read that note, I should refuse. That's the kind of a man I am."
"Don't worry," said Billy, "I shan't ask you."
"That won't help you any, for I won't read it even if you don't ask
me." And in high dudgeon Mumbledy Peg started to stump off down the
street.
"Hold on," called Billy, running after him.
"I have nothing to hold on to, but don't worry, I won't fall."
"Can't you give a sensible answer to anything?"
"No. I used to do that and people said I had so much common sense I
couldn't be very bright. When I began talking nonsense they said it was
so foolish it must be very clever, and thus I gained a great reputation
for being witty."
"Well, just for once, won't you try to talk common sense?" said Billy.
"How can I get to Bogie Man's house?"
"There is just one way and that is to walk. We have no street cars
here."
"I mean in what direction shall I go?"
"It makes no difference to me which way you go--see here, Billy Bounce,
I know you," said Mumbledy Peg, severely.
"You know me?" asked Billy, in surprise.
"Yes, I do, and I'm not going to help you find Bogie Man's house."
"Oh! you're not," said Billy. "Well, suppose I find it anyway."
"You can't, no one ever finds Bogie Man unless he doesn't want to find
him."
"We will see about that," said Billy, angrily, "and when I do find him
and deliver the note, I'm going to tell him just what I think of him."
"He doesn't care what you think of him. Thoughts never hurt any one but
their thinkers."
"That is too deep for me," said Billy.
"There it is," said Mumbledy Peg in disgust, "when I _do_ say something
sensible, you don't understand me."
"Then you won't help me to find Bogie Man?"
"Not an inch, and I will say further that if all our leading citizens
had not left for Mars in search of work, you wouldn't be alive in this
town for three minutes."
"I'm not trying to harm you," said Billy.
"We won't discuss the matter further. Good night," and Mumbledy Peg
drove himself right into the ground and disappeared, leaving Billy
alone in the dark street.
"I can't get him back unless I pull him out with my teeth, I suppose,"
said Billy, "and I'm not going to try that. Now, what am I to do
without a guide? It is fearfully dark and lonely, and I seem to be as
far from seeing Bogie Man as ever. I wonder what street this is?"
He tried to see the sign on the lamp post. Of course the lamp was not
lit, for they never are in Never Was until daylight.
But he couldn't possibly make it out, so he fumbled about in his
pockets until he found a match. He lighted this, and by its feeble
flame read the sign "The Road-to-Bed."
"The Road-to-Bed," he repeated to himself, "that's a strange name for
a street. I wonder if Bogie Man lives anywhere near. Why, of course,
he must live in this street, because he is nearly always seen on the
road to bed." Now Billy did not exactly mean that Bogie Man _was_ seen,
because, although many little boys and little girls have _thought_ they
saw Bogie Man, have thought they heard him creeping up behind them to
seize their shoulders, or was hid under the bed to catch ankles when
they hopped into bed--he wasn't really there at all. The fact of the
matter is that he had never in his life left Never Was until Billy
took--but there, you will learn later what Billy did to him.