So Dan did.
“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 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.”
“I’ll go slowly,” Dan assured him.
“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 low bow, “Beader takes pride in being the first to welcome you to the Valley of Tick Tock.”
“What an odd name!” exclaimed Dan. “Why do you call it that?”
“Listen a moment and you will hear,” replied Beader.
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!”