"No use," said the Poker, panting with his exertion. "There is only one thing to do now and that is to send for the Bellows. If he'll come and blow in his usual style we'll have that cloud where we want it in less than no time. I'd blow it there myself, for I am a far better blower than the Bellows is—my, how I can blow! But I'm out of breath trying to push the cloud."
"I'll run back and get the Bellows," said Lefty.
"And I'll go with you," said Righty. "He may not come for one, but I'm sure he will for two."
"All right," said the Poker. "Dormy and I will wait here for you; and I'll tell him a story while you're gone. How will that suit you Dormy?"
"First rate," said Tom. "I like stories."
"We'll be back soon," said the Righthandiron, as he and the other started back after the Bellows. "So make your story short."
"Very good," returned the Poker amiably. "I'll make it so short that Dormy will hardly know that it was ever begun."
And so Tom was left sitting on a big cloud way up in the sky with the Poker—which was indeed a very novel position for a small boy like him to be in.