Onward and still onward they galloped. Soon darkness had come but the White-White Horse gave no sign of a halt. Now he went skimming up the side of a hill and then down the face of another. But at last, as the travelers reached the brow of an unusually steep slope, they came in sight of the big, yellow moon just as it was on the point of rousing itself from the top of a more distant hill. And it was here the White-White Horse stopped so suddenly that Dan was all but tossed from his seat.
Catching his balance, the clown gazed over the Pretty Lady’s shoulder. Before and beneath them, and to the right and the left of them, stretched a bit of a valley that seemed fast asleep. Some of its sides were covered with corn fields while others were checkered with patches of wheat. These crept downward to the very edge of a dark clump of raggedy trees that grew on the floor of the valley. In the midst of the trees—but standing much higher than the tallest of them—was a queerly shaped tower. Now it seemed to be thrusting its head into the moon’s great, round face. It resembled nothing so much as a huge grandfather’s clock. But what could a clock be doing in such a strange place?
Even as Dan pondered, the Pretty Lady motioned him to alight.
“You are to go into the valley,” she whispered, her face placed close to his very white ear. “Two things you are to remember: Be ever so careful as to just where you step; and, if you are asked why you have come, always answer ‘Dickory Dock.’”
Dan would have liked more instructions but, just as he opened his lips to question the Lady, the White-White Horse whirled about in his tracks and was gone in the direction whence they had come.
“Well, well,” said Dan to himself, “I guess there is but one thing to do and that is to go into the valley and see what I’ll find there.” So he started off down the slope. Soon he entered a corn patch. As he neared the middle of it he was joined by a breeze that rustled the long leaves until they fairly sang at its touch. It was a soft, murmuring tune, with a gay little quirk, and so filled with happiness that Dan soon found himself singing a song of his own. How long he might have sung there is no way of knowing, for he was still in the midst of the melody, when he felt a sharp tugging at the great ruffled collar that circled his neck. Thinking the collar had caught upon something, he turned to see what it was. And there holding to a cornstalk while he jerked at the edge of the ruff, was a most indignant mouse!
“So! I’ve finally brought you to a halt,” squeaked the stranger. “Didn’t you hear me shouting at you when you entered the corn field? You clumsy fellow—you almost stepped on my sentry box!”
Dan thought he had never before seen quite such a mouse. Not that his face was unlike that of other mice, but because of the dress that he wore. This consisted of a jaunty cap with a plume in it, a red coat adorned with two rows of tiny brass buttons, and trousers that were braided with gold stripes down the sides. Around his waist ran a belt and from this hung a sword.
“Now who are you and what do you want,” demanded the mouse.
“Why, I’m Diggeldy Dan, and I—”