The man handed out the different ice cream cones, and although the flavor of each was different from anything they had ever tasted the travelers thought them fine.
Just then the little bell up on the side of the cliff began tinkling.
“Hello!” said the man. “Someone else gets a cigar!”
They all ran to where they could look down into the little valley and there they saw old Jingles, the wicked Magician, holding on to the electric wire and turning flip-flops in his efforts to get free.
The Soft-Voiced Cow began switching her tail nervously.
“It’s Old Jingles, the Magician!” cried all in one voice.
“I have been in hopes I should land him on the wire!” said the man. “Do you know,” he explained in a confidential tone, “that is the reason I started this place in the mountains! Here, Gran’pa,” he continued, “you may have his cigar. All of you help yourselves to anything you wish. I am through with the business now that old Jingles is on the wire!”
“What do you intend doing?” asked Gran’pa.
“Nothing,” answered the man. “I’m through now, and I’m going back to the City of Nite!”
The bell kept on tinkling and the indicator on the dial kept whirling around in a circle.