"Barker, old dog," he said finally in despair, "I'm afraid my head is turned. I want you to try it." So he took Barker out of his pocket and placed him on the ground. Then he turned his own and Barker's heads over their shoulders, and pointing to the city said, "Watch, it, good dog, watch it."
Barker undoubtedly understood, and as his neck wasn't comfortable with his head turned, he turned his body around. He stopped and looked around him in the greatest dog surprise, caught sight of the city over his shoulder, and turned again. Then he began to get excited, and before Billy could stop him was spinning round and round like a kitten after its tail. And he spun and spun and he spun, Billy all the time trying to make head or tail of him, until he got so dizzy that he fell over on his side. "Good old dog," cried Billy, picking him up and putting him in his pocket. "You have proved that I'm not the only one who can't get the bridge in front of him. But I have made up my mind to get to that city if it takes the rest of my life, for it looks to me like Never Was where Bogie Man lives." And with that he commenced to walk backwards. And he walked and walked and walked, but not an inch nearer to the bridge did he get.
"I wonder if I could jump backwards. I'll try it." And back he jumped. Up he went and back he flew. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling, either, not to know just where he was going, and he certainly hoped he wouldn't bump into any buildings when he did reach the city. But he closed his eyes and waited, until at last his feet touched earth. Then he opened his eyes and looked around him, expecting to find himself in the middle of the city. Not a bit of it. There he was in the same spot he had started from, with the bridge and the city just over his shoulder.
"Well, I'll be gum swizzled!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"I shouldn't," said an important looking man in a black uniform and a little round cap bearing the words "Toll Gate Keeper." "You might be gummed, you know, like an envelope, but it wouldn't do to be swizzled."
"What is swizzled?" asked Billy.
"How should I know? But you should, for you said you would be."
"It was just an expression with me."
"Oh! you meant to say you would be expressed. What are the express rates on boys?"
"No, I didn't mean that; what I meant to say is that what I meant to say was—oh! pshaw! I don't know what I'm talking about."