“The clock struck one,” chorused the choir.
“Boom!” went the Clock.
“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 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,” 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 and no end of thanks to you, Friend Beader,” exclaimed Dan.