“How about Mirthrandes Hendershot?” asked Cap.
“No—no! Not that! Not that! Spavin, ring bone and blind staggers are things of the past. I dare not undertake to cure any more horses.”
“Just what are you doing?” asked Pete, as the former weather prophet entered and took a low stool.
“Ah, now we are coming to it,” was the answer with a smile. “In the first place my name—how does Tithonus Somnus strike you?”
“An odd combination,” remarked Cap, recalling the one ancient god who was turned into a grasshopper, and the other who symbolized sleep.
“Odd, and so much the better,” went on Mr. Somnus. “It typifies my calling.”
“Which might be—?” asked Bill suggestively.
“Which might be almost anything, and nothing, and which, at times is neither or both, but which at present is that of astronomer ordinary. That is my present occupation. I go about the country initiating the farmers and country folk into the mysteries of the heavens. In fact I jump about from place to place, hence the name Tithonus. I jump while others sleep, and show the stars which only come out at slumber-time—hence the name, Somnus. Is it clear?”
“Perfectly so,” answered Whistle-Breeches, who thought the astronomer a most delightful character.
“And so you are showing the stars and moon?” asked Pete.