Uncle Roger lived in town, quite a distance from the home of the Three
Happy Children. When they walked, Marmaduke's short legs took one
whole hour to reach it; Jehosophat's, forty-five minutes; though the
Toyman's long shanks could cover the ground in fifteen. But then he
could go ever so fast. However, they usually rode, and horses can
always go faster than men. Even Old Methusaleh could trot there in
twelve, and he was spavined and a little wind-broke, while Teddy and
Hal, who were young and frisky, could get there as quick as a wink.
On this particular day Uncle Roger and Aunt Mehitable had a family
party. It was a fine one, you may be sure, but we are not going to
tell you about it, when something even more interesting happened that
night.
At half-past eight the last horn sounded and the party was over.
Mother and Hepzebiah climbed in the surrey, and, with them, two
great-aunts, Sophronisba and Abigail. Aunt Phrony weighed more than
three hundred pounds, but Aunt Abby only a hundred; and they were
planning to visit the White House With the Green Blinds by the Side of
the Road--"for a week," they said, but the boys heard Father whisper
to Mother, as he piled their baggage under the tailboard,--"From the
size of those bags it looks like a year and a day." The boys wondered
what that extra day could ever be for--probably to move all that
baggage.
Now Teddy the Buckskin Horse was hitched to the surrey; and in the
shafts of the buggy stood Hal the Red Roan. And that night the boys
particularly wanted to ride behind Teddy. They liked to watch the
black stripe that ran down his yellow back skim ahead of them over the
road, just like a snake. And they liked the surrey, too. It had a
fringe all around the top, and high mudguards, and a whip with a
tassel and ribbon on it. But now that the great-aunts were in, Aunt
Abby's side rose way up in the air, she was so light, but Aunt
Phrony's sank down until the steel springs of the carriage groaned and
scrunched on the axles. The surrey looked like a boat when all the
passengers rush to one side to see who has fallen over.
There was no room for the boys, so they had to climb in the buggy.
But, after all, the Toyman was to drive, and that quite made up for
it. He might even let them drive, or tell them stories--about Ole Man
Pumpkin, or the stars, or the cowboys out West, or any one of a number
of wonderful things. So they were quite content as the Toyman said
"Gee-dap," and they drove off through the night.
They had gone but a short distance when they saw a light. It was
different from all the lights in the houses and the street lamps on
the corners, which shone steadily and all the while. This one
flickered and flared like a fire in the wind; and it smoked rather
badly, too.
Jehosophat and Marmaduke tried to guess what it was, but neither was
right. When they reached the corner of the street and got out of the
buggy, they saw a lot of boys, big boys and little boys, and men, too,
crowding around a wagon. The horses which had brought it there were
tied to a hitching post a little way off, and a man stood in the back
by the tailboard. The light which they had seen from afar shone over
his head, a strange sort of torch, and was fed with oil by a little
metal pan with a tube running to it. And it flickered oddly up and
down, and from side to side, throwing funny shadows on the man, who
looked queer enough himself.
He had long black hair like Buffalo Bill, and a long black
coat--_very_ long, with a fur collar on it.