"Oh, let me see--wh-h-y, I'd say they were all cut outo' agate like
your shooters--leastways they look like that at this distance. An' the
sidewalks, of course, are of gold--a blind man could tell that--"
"What else?" demanded Marmaduke, a little out of breath, and dazzled
by all this sudden glory.
"Oh, a lot else--" the Toyman replied, "for one thing, the door-knobs
in all the castles are silver--but then that's nothin'--silver's so
common even their frying-pans are made outo' that. But you ought to
see their lamp-posts in the street. Their poles are built of ivory
from the tusks of elephants of the first water; an' the glass on top
is nothing but rubies--"
"Whew!" exclaimed Marmaduke, "that's a great city."
"Yes," added the Toyman, "it's a great city."
So for a little while they watched that great Cloud City with all its
towers, and flags and banners waving in the wind; and heard the horses
prance over the bright cobbles, and the glorious music coming from out
the great church doors. Suddenly Marmaduke asked,--
"Do you 'spose we could take that city?"
"'_Spose_!" exclaimed the Toyman, "why, I'm _sure_ of it.
Just call up your horses an' call up your men." And he put his hands
to his lips and hallooed through them as through a trumpet, Echo
answering back as if she had a trumpet, too.
"Hurry," the Toyman went on in excitement, "there's your horse--come,
put your foot in the stirrup an' lick him up an' away we'll go!"
And he made all the motions of mounting a horse himself, and calling,
"Charge!" to the soldiers. It was a beautiful game, and so real that
Marmaduke felt he was actually flying through the air on a winged
horse, at the head of a mighty column of soldiers, straight towards
the Cloud City.
But alas! they didn't take that city, for, as they came near it, a
horn sounded from the valley below. They turned back to look and there
far, far beneath them, they saw the White House with the Green Blinds
By the Side of the Road, and Mother standing by the door. She looked
ever so tiny, and she was blowing that horn over and over to call them
to supper. They reined in their horses to listen, for they knew what
they would hear in a minute. Yes, there it came, that other horn--it
was Echo's. And when they turned in their saddles to look at the Cloud
City again, it had vanished--vanished at the sound of the horn, with
all their horses and men.
[Illustration: "So, for a little while, they watched that great Cloud
City, with all its towers and flags and banners waving in the wind."]
"Oh dear!" said Marmaduke, when he found himself on the hill once
more, the game all over and ended, "she's always mocking us an'
spoiling things, that Echo. If I ever catch her, I--I'll break her
horn an' throw it down the waterfall, so she can't blow it
again--_ever_."
"Never mind, sonny, we'll take that city some time," said the Toyman.
"We had a lesson 'bout that, in Sunday school today," Marmaduke told
him, "all about 'he who taketh the city.' But the teacher said 'he who
conquers his spirit is greater'n he who taketh the city.' How can you
conquer a spirit, Toyman, when you can't see it? Did you ever conquer
your spirit?"
The Toyman looked very sober for a while, as they rose and turned
their faces towards the road and the valley.
"Yes," he said, "that's what I've been trying to do all day. I had
some trouble an' temptation, an' it was getting the best of me. You
know, something bad in me that was tellin' me to do things I'd
oughtn't to. I tried hard to get my fingers around that bad spirit an'
throw him out by his heels. That's why I came up here on the hill to
fight it out. You'll understand some day--when you're older."
But, strange to say, the little boy thought he understood even
then--at least part of it.
"Have you conquered it, Toyman?" he asked at last.
"I think so," the Toyman answered slowly--"leastways I hope so."
"And _when_ did you conquer it?" the little boy prattled on.
The Toyman thought for a moment.
"When you just crep' up behind me, so still an' quiet, an' put your
face against mine." And at that the Toyman hugged him again. "No, I
guess we won't take that city tonight--we've done a better job."
As they walked to the brown ribbon road again, and over the hill to
the valley, the sun was setting. They could see it perched like a gold
saucer on the top of the hill, or like the shield of one of their
soldiers. Gold bit by gold bit it sank below. Then it went altogether,
out of sight, but the Cloud City came back again just for a moment,
and a rosy light shone upon that Cloud City and all its banners, and
towers, and spires.
Then suddenly it faded quite away. And the little boy and the Toyman
walked home through the night, but they whistled together as they
went.