"I couldn't possibly guess," said Jimmieboy, with a grin.
"They don't either of them smoke cigarettes, of course," said the Rake. "I should think anybody could have told that. Now, can you tell me why a—"
"Thumbhi!" came a voice in the distance.
"Excuse me for a minute," said Thumbhi. "I think I hear somebody calling me," and he was off.
"You'd better follow him, Jimmieboy," said the Rake, kindly. "Don't lose sight of him for an instant. This is his way of getting rid of you. He brought you in here to tell you his history, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, he hasn't got one," whispered the Rake. "He hasn't got one, and he never had one, and this having himself called away is only one of his tricks. Keep your eye on him or you're lost."
JIMMIEBOY STARTED IN PURSUIT.
With this the Rake slammed the door of the tool-house, and Jimmieboy turning about peered down the path at the Wizard, who was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Jimmieboy started in pursuit—and what a pursuit it was! Like the wind they ran, mile after mile round and round the garden, through forests that turned up on the road here and there, and once in awhile with great bounds jumping over rivers and mountains, until finally Thumbhi turned suddenly, ran backwards directly past Jimmieboy, and before the little visitor had time to turn around was lost to sight.