“But his tail is caught in the bell rope,” said the motorman, hurling the stone at the Equine Ox. The stone broke a window, and although it did not reach its target, it annoyed the creature so that he struggled more frantically than before, and the bell jingled furiously.
“Stop,” cried the conductor excitedly. “It’s getting too expensive for me.”
“Expensive!” said Billy in amazement.
“Yes, expensive. Every time he wiggles his tail that way he rings up a fare, and he’s rung up more than thirty-seven dollars’ worth already. I’ve counted ’em all.”
Billy understood why the motorman and the conductor were so worried. The tail of the Ox had become entangled in the rope that led to the fare register, and every tinkle of the bell meant a fare recorded.
At first he was shocked to think of this wasteful extravagance, but then he recollected that as the car was not on a regular run the fares couldn’t really be counted against the motorman and the conductor.
They were not at all certain of this when he explained it to them.
“We’re going back, ain’t we?” asked the conductor.
“Oh, yes,” said Billy, “I’m sure we are.”
“Well, when we run the car into the barn they’ll charge me with these fares,” said the conductor. “The car will have been away so long that they’ll be disgusted if it has not earned any money.”