He had little time to worry about this new danger, however, for just then the crater became filled with terrific heat, and its dark recesses were illumined by a brilliant glare. Billy’s eyes were dazzled at first, then right above him he made out the circular form of the Equator staring blankly down at him. “Oh, I am lost!” cried the Evening Star, and with a series of leaps she disappeared down the crater. “The goose, she’ll be burned to death!” said Nimbus, and started after her. There was a sound of falling gravel, a sharp patter of footsteps, and then silence. Billy knew that it would be foolish to follow, so he quietly waited for something to happen. The Equator, meanwhile, was getting a little more accustomed to the darkness. As he peered about he muttered to himself, and Billy caught the words: “I hope she hasn’t got away. There’s no one left but the Equine Ox, and you couldn’t turn him into a Comet any more than you could turn him out of a pasture.” “You ought not to turn anybody into a Comet,” said Billy. “It isn’t polite.” The Equator started violently. “Who are you?” he demanded, scowling at Billy. “My name is Billy,” said the little boy, “and I am a friend of the Evening Star.” “Do you think you could be turned into a Comet, Billy?” asked the Equator solicitously. “I-I hope not,” faltered Billy. “I never tried, though.” “I’m afraid you couldn’t,” grumbled the Equator. “Perhaps you can tell me where I can find the Evening Star.” “No,” said Billy decidedly. “I will not.” “Oh, come now, don’t be rude. I won’t turn her into a very big Comet, you know.” “I don’t care,” said Billy. “I shall not tell you where she is, and I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “I was driven to it,” said the Equator; “when the Geographers made me, they wanted to be sure to have enough of me to go around, and I’ve been going around ever since. It got so monotonous after a while that I simply had to get into mischief or explode.” “Was that why you escaped?” asked Billy. “Yes; the Equine Ox went to sleep and I broke a meridian and got away. It was quite oxidental, my escaping; I mean accidental.” “It cannot be very nice, being an Equator,” said Billy thoughtfully; “but it would be far worse to be a Comet.” “Oh, I don’t know!” said the Equator. “Comets only have to get to a certain place once in two or three hundred years, while an Equator has to be in one place always. I’m very tired,” he said suddenly. “What do you usually do when you’re tired?” “I sleep,” said Billy. “Indeed!” said the Equator; “how interesting. How is it done?” “Why,” exclaimed Billy eagerly, “you lie down somewhere, then you close your eyes, then you think of sheep jumping through a fence and try to count them until you fall asleep.” “But I can’t think of any sheep jumping through a fence. I never saw a sheep, nor a fence. Do you suppose it would do just as well to count hippopotamuses jumping through a swamp?”