"The Tapir sold writing-paper, you see. But he was too stupid to get along in the business. That's why it is called a stationary business."
Tommy was about to answer—he hardly knew what—when a bump and a squeal interrupted the conversation. The sleeping Gopher had fallen off the rafter. This accident might have caused a good deal of trouble if a great hubbub had not started at the other end of the room at the same moment. There were squeals and howls and yelps, as if one was being killed. In the rush and confusion the Gopher mixed with the crowd, and Tommy could only occasionally catch a glimpse of his pink sun-bonnet bobbing up now and then in the swarm that was struggling in the distance.
"I wonder what has happened?" said the little boy, leaning as far forward as he dared.
"First fight, I guess," muttered the ex-Pirate, "But I think we had better stay up here and wait till it's all over."
"I guess we had," assented Tommy. But they did not have to wait very long, for the Gopher soon came scurrying back and climbed quickly up beside them.
"Goodness! Goodness me!" he cried.
"What's the matter?" asked the ex-Pirate, eagerly.
"The Dachshund was playing tag with a Chinese Pug, and he fell through the trap-door."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Tommy.
"You ought to see him," pursued the Gopher. "He fell all the way down to the hold, and his legs are jammed away up into his body and twisted all out of shape. They're only about three inches long now, and even the Elephant could not pull them out straight. He is disfigured for all time."