Now the clock struck twelve—and, bounce!—the lid flew off the snuffbox; but there was not snuff in it, but a little black goblin; you see, it was a trick. “Tin Soldier,” said the Goblin, “don’t stare at things that don’t concern you.” But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear him. “Just you wait till to-morrow!” said the Goblin. But when the morning came, and the children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed in the window; and whether it was the Goblin or the draft that did it, all at once the window flew open, and the Soldier fell, head over heels, out of the third story. That was a terrible passage! He put his leg straight up, and struck with his helmet downward, and his bayonet between the paving stones. The servant maid and the little boy came down directly to look for him, but though they almost trod upon him they could not see him. If the Soldier had cried out, “Here I am!” they would have found him; but he did not think it fitting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. Now it began to rain; the drops soon fell thicker, and at last it came down in a complete stream. When the rain was past, two street boys came by. “Just look!” said one of them, “there lies a tin soldier. He must come out and ride in the boat.” And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in the middle of it; and so he sailed down the gutter, and the two boys ran beside him and clapped their hands. Goodness preserve us! how the waves rose in that gutter, and how fast the stream ran! But then it had been a heavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes turned round so rapidly that the Tin Soldier trembled; but he remained firm and never changed countenance, and looked straight before him, and shouldered his musket. All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became as dark as if he had been in his box. “Where am I going now?” he thought. “Yes, yes, that’s the Goblin’s fault. Ah! if the little Lady only sat here with me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for what I should care.” Suddenly there came a great water rat, which lived under the drain. “Have you a passport?” said the Rat. “Give me your passport.” But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and only held his musket tighter than ever. The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Hu! how he gnashed his teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and wood: “Hold him! hold him! he hasn’t paid toll—he hasn’t showed his passport!” But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin Soldier could see the bright daylight where the arch ended; but he heard a roaring noise, which might well frighten a bolder man. Only think—just where the tunnel ended the drain ran into a great canal; and for him that would have been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great waterfall.