“I tell you,” said Billy; “when Nimbus comes back I’ll get him to enchant the register so it will only charge up the fares you have really collected. That will make it all right.”
This appeased the motorman and the conductor, and in answer to Billy’s questions they explained how the Equine Ox got into the car.
When they were left alone with him he had behaved very badly, rolling on the ground and laughing very heartily, which proved, as they had been told by Nimbus, that he was furiously angry.
Then he began to sing, and at last he actually started to run away.
But they prevented this by tying the trolley rope tightly to his horn and securing him to the car, and then, fearing that the rope might break, they hit upon a stratagem.
They talked eagerly about the comforts and coolness of the inside of the car, until the curiosity of the Equine Ox outran his discretion and he insisted upon going in.
Knowing that he was governed by contraries, they tried to prevent his doing so. This, as they expected, made him all the more determined, and he forced his way past them into the car.
But once inside he found it impossible to get out, and then it was that he began the lashing of his tail, which had resulted in the ringing up of so many fares.
Billy agreed with the motorman and the conductor that the best place for the Equine Ox was in the trolley car, for if he tried too hard to escape they had only to shut the door to keep him there.
So Billy sat down and told the trolley men everything that had happened since he left them, and they became as excited as he was about the chances of the Evening Star’s escape from the Equator.