"But suppose they won't mind you, what will you do then?" The old man looked puzzled, and shook his head slowly. "I'm sure I don't know what I could do in that case," he answered. "You see, no one has ever before come here since I was commanded to guard the entrance to Merryland." "How long have you been here?" inquired Dot. "About three hundred years, I think; but I've lost track of the exact time." "Don't you ever die?" asked Tot wondering at this great age. "I haven't died yet," answered the old man, thoughtfully. "But you will, won't you?" persisted the boy. "Why, I suppose so, if the Queen lets me," was the reply. "Who is the Queen?" questioned Dot. "She who rules Merryland," answered the man. Then, for a few moments, there was silence, while Dot and Tot stared at the hairy old man and he stared at them. Presently Dot broke the silence the stillness by asking, "What do you do in this lonesome place, where you have no one to talk to?" "Why, most of the time I watch, as it is my duty to do. And when I get lonely, I count my whiskers." "Oh!" said Dot. Then she inquired, curiously, "How many whiskers have you?" "Well, answered the Watch-Dog of Merryland," confidentially, "there are either eighty-seven thousand four hundred and twenty-six, or else eighty-seven thousand four hundred and twenty-eight. Sometimes I make it one figure and sometimes the other, so I can't really tell which is right. I was engaged in counting my whiskers when I looked up and saw your boat. I had then counted sixty-nine thousand three hundred and fifty-four; but I was so surprised to see you that I missed the count, and now I shall have to begin all over again." "I'm sorry," said Dot, sympathetically; "I'd like to know just which is the right number." "If you will wait I'll count them," he replied, eagerly. "Perhaps then you can tell if I make a mistake." "How long will it take?" she asked. "I can do it in about four months." "Oh, we couldn't possibly wait that long," declared the girl. "I really think we should be going now." "Where will you go?" he asked. "There is only one way for us to go--through that archway into Merryland, as you call it. We are not strong enough to pull the boat upstream, so we must let it float where it will." "It will be a terrible disgrace to me," said the Watch-Dog of Merryland, in a solemn voice, "if you escape me. What will the Queen say when she knows I have watched here three hundred years without seeing anyone, and then allowed the first strangers who came along to pass through the archway?" "I do not see that she can blame you," returned Dot. "You say yourself you would be unable to stop us if we decided not to mind you. So the Queen can only blame us for not minding you." "That is true," said the old man, more cheerfully. "Want somethin' t'eat?" inquired Tot, holding out a slice of jellycake. "Dear me!" said the Watch-Dog, taking the cake in his hand and looking at it with much curiosity. "What is it?"