"I've done a heap of traveling in my time," confided Notta, "but never in just this way. I've run into some strange places and walked into others; but this is the first time I ever talked myself into a country. There we were in a circus, quiet and natural like, then that rhyme pops into my head. I say it and off we go like a couple of skyrockets. We were just talked into this country, Bob, my boy, and a mighty tricky business I call it. But never mind, we'll just follow the rules anyway."
"What rules?" asked Bob, looking curiously at some tall palm trees, waving in the distance. He had never supposed palm trees existed outside of geography books.
"Why," explained Notta, "just four simple little rules I made up to use in case of danger or trouble. First," he pulled out his little finger, "first I disguise myself. If that fails, I'm extree-mly polite. If politeness doesn't do, I tell a joke. If the joke fails, I shout something no one can understand and run like sixty. So don't you worry, Bob; stick to me and run when I run and everything will turn out right. Do you know what makes me so fat?"
Bob shook his head.
"Disguises!" whispered Notta triumphantly. "I use them for padding. Mighty handy when I tumble about. Yes, sir, in here." Notta fondly patted his bulging suit. "In here I have six marvelous disguises ready to put on at a moment's notice, and in here," Notta tapped his powdery forehead, "in here, I've sixty different jokes, and lots of things I don't understand myself, so you see we are prepared for everything."
"Yes, sir," said Bobbie solemnly, for he was a very solemn little boy. Living in an orphan asylum had made him that way and, as for adventures, he had never had an adventure in his life. There were lessons and meals and punishments, and once in a while a fight among the older boys, but no one in that big, busy home had time to talk to Bobbie Downs, nor answer his questions. So Bobbie had grown quieter and more solemn each year of the seven he had spent in the dull gray asylum.
Notta looked at the little boy curiously as he trudged along beside him. The kindly clown decided that he was going to like Bob Up, and right there he decided that Bob Up was going to have a little fun. "I'll bet he's never laughed out loud in his whole life," thought the clown to himself, and began running over in his head the funniest jokes that he knew. He had just determined on the one about the pig and the pound of bacon, when an ear splitting screech knocked all thought of joking out of his mind. A huge figure, with bristling blue whiskers, had stepped out from behind a palm tree, taken one look at the two strangers and then disappeared in the direction of the blue tent, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Is it Blue Beard?" quavered Bob, clutching Notta.
"Bob," said the clown, swallowing hard, "I don't know, but we'll just try rule one." Fumbling in the bosom of his suit he dragged out a brown bundle, and before the little boy could wink had stepped into it and dropped on all fours.
"I'm a lion," panted Notta, "and if I roar loudly enough I may frighten them off. Stick close to me, Bob, and try to remember the rules. If I run, you run—understand?"