“Anything but the Evening Star,” said a deep voice beside him. “They haven’t found her yet, remember.”
Billy jumped almost out of his shoes, he was so startled, but he looked bravely in the direction of the voice just the same, and to his amazement he saw the Equine Ox standing knee deep in snow and switching his tail vigorously as he had learned to switch it in the tropics where the flies are bad. It made Billy laugh to see him do it in the Arctic Circle. But the Equine Ox said it was a warming process.
“I repeat,” said the Equine Ox, “that they haven’t found the Evening Star. That is chiefly because they refused to ask me to help them.”
“But,” said Billy, “you are supposed to be back there with the conductor and the motorman.”
“They were not interesting,” said the Equine Ox. “No doubt they are very worthy people, but they are not interesting. They talked about pie and cheese sandwiches and fried beefsteak and other things I do not care for, so I came up here. I knew I would have to, anyway, before they found the Evening Star.”
“How in the world did you get here?” asked Billy.
“I didn’t,” said the Equine Ox.
“But you’re here, so you must have got here,” insisted Billy.
“You asked,” said the Equine Ox placidly, “how in the world I got here. I didn’t get here in the world. I got here out of the world. I came by way of the Big Dipper.”
“Oh!” said Billy; “I suppose I see. Anyway, it would not be polite to keep on asking you questions, even if I don’t understand.”