The Toyman looked very sober for a while, as they rose and turned their faces towards the road and the valley.
"Yes," he said, "that's what I've been trying to do all day. I had some trouble an' temptation, an' it was getting the best of me. You know, something bad in me that was tellin' me to do things I'd oughtn't to. I tried hard to get my fingers around that bad spirit an' throw him out by his heels. That's why I came up here on the hill to fight it out. You'll understand some day--when you're older."
But, strange to say, the little boy thought he understood even then--at least part of it.
"Have you conquered it, Toyman?" he asked at last.
"I think so," the Toyman answered slowly--"leastways I hope so."
"And when did you conquer it?" the little boy prattled on.
The Toyman thought for a moment.
"When you just crep' up behind me, so still an' quiet, an' put your face against mine." And at that the Toyman hugged him again. "No, I guess we won't take that city tonight--we've done a better job."
As they walked to the brown ribbon road again, and over the hill to the valley, the sun was setting. They could see it perched like a gold saucer on the top of the hill, or like the shield of one of their soldiers. Gold bit by gold bit it sank below. Then it went altogether, out of sight, but the Cloud City came back again just for a moment, and a rosy light shone upon that Cloud City and all its banners, and towers, and spires.
Then suddenly it faded quite away. And the little boy and the Toyman walked home through the night, but they whistled together as they went.