“I sleep,” said Billy.
“Indeed!” said the Equator; “how interesting. How is it done?”
“Why,” exclaimed Billy eagerly, “you lie down somewhere, then you close your eyes, then you think of sheep jumping through a fence and try to count them until you fall asleep.”
“But I can’t think of any sheep jumping through a fence. I never saw a sheep, nor a fence. Do you suppose it would do just as well to count hippopotamuses jumping through a swamp?”
“Perhaps,” said Billy doubtfully, “although I never tried it.”
To his great joy the Equator settled down on the summit of the volcano and closed his eyes. He breathed hard and regularly for a little, and then, as one eye opened, he said: “What do you do when the third and seventh and eleventh hippopotamus is a rhinoceros? Count him, too?”
“Certainly,” said Billy, and again the Equator closed his eyes.
Presently he opened them again. “Look here,” he exclaimed, “I’ve counted all the hippopotamuses and rhinoceroses there are. Now what do I do?”
“Begin on the camels and lions and tigers,” said Billy.
“And when they’re counted?”