“How long ago was that?” asked Betsy.
“That I was born? Oh, not very long ago. I’m only a mere child. If I had not been sent on this journey, I would have celebrated my three thousand and fifty-sixth birthday next Thursday. Mother was going to make me a birthday cake with three thousand and fifty-six candles on it; but now, of course, there will be no celebration, for I fear I shall not get home in time for it.”
“Three thousand and fifty-six years!” cried Betsy. “Why, I had no idea anything could live that long!”
“My respected Ancestor, whom I would call a stupid old humbug if I had not reformed, is so old that I am a mere baby compared with him,” said Quox. "He dates from the beginning of the world, and insists on telling us stories of things that happened fifty thousand years ago, which are of no interest at all to youngsters like me. In fact, Grandpa isn’t up to date. He lives altogether in the past, so I can’t see any good reason for his being alive to-day.... Are you people able to see your way, or shall I turn on more light?'
“Oh, we can see very nicely, thank you; only there’s nothing to see but ourselves,” answered Betsy.
This was true. The dragon’s big eyes were like headlights on an automobile and illuminated the Tube far ahead of them. Also he curled his tail upward so that the electric light on the end of it enabled them to see one another quite clearly. But the Tube itself was only dark metal, smooth as glass but exactly the same from one of its ends to the other. Therefore there was no scenery of interest to beguile the journey.
They were now falling so gently that the trip was proving entirely comfortable, as the Jinjin had promised it would be; but this meant a longer journey and the only way they could make time pass was to engage in conversation. The dragon seemed a willing and persistent talker and he was of so much interest to them that they encouraged him to chatter. His voice was a little gruff but not unpleasant when one became used to it.
“My only fear,” said he presently, "is that this constant sliding over the surface of the Tube will dull my claws. You see, this hole isn’t straight down, but on a steep slant, and so instead of tumbling freely through the air I must skate along the Tube. Fortunately, there is a file in my tool-kit, and if my claws get dull they can be sharpened again."
“Why do you want sharp claws?” asked Betsy.
“They are my natural weapons, and you must not forget that I have been sent to conquer Ruggedo.”