"Then if you were asleep, why did you call me to tell me you wanted to go to sleep?"
"It was an accident," said Billy. "I didn't want you, don't want you, and if you can't do anything but scold a fellow because you came when you weren't wanted, I don't ever want to see you again. Good-night." And Billy turned over in a huff and closed his eyes.
"But I can't go until I do something for you-those are my orders," said Umberufen sulkily. "You called me here and you've got to abide by the consequences."
"I don't care what you do. Well, then, stand on your head," said Billy.
"Zip"—and there stood little old Umberufen on his head. "Why didn't you say so sooner?" said he as he regained his feet. "I'd have been home by this time—good-night," and he was gone.
When Billy woke in the morning he felt just a bit sleepy and cross, but after he and Barker had had a game of romps he felt better, and tucking the dog under his arm he jumped off into space singing gaily.
"My gracious, what a big sea shore this is!" exclaimed Billy, when he drifted down to earth again; "and how hot the sun is, but where is the water?"
And Billy stood wiping the perspiration from his brow, while Barker squirmed out of his arms and stood in Billy's shadow with his tongue lolling out.
"It seems to me the singing tree can help us here," said Billy.
Barker undoubtedly understood him, and thought it a splendid plan, for quick as a flash his little fore paws had dug a hole in the soft sand. He barked into it, kicked the sand in again with his hind legs, and he and Billy were soon sitting in the grateful shade of the tree.