It had grown quite light, so that the flashes of Aurora could no longer seem to guide them, for they had quite faded in the brighter dawn. As Billy was very tired, Jack Frost and Nimbus agreed to sit down for a few minutes while he rested. In the mean time they sent a Meteor back for the trolley car so that they might continue their journey more easily. “Walking is foolish, anyway,” said Jack Frost. “Why any one who can fly should ever walk is a mystery to me.” “Birds do,” said Billy. “Yes,” said Jack Frost, “and sometimes they overdo it, like the awkward auk. Did you ever hear about him?” “No,” said Billy, “I never did, but I should love to.” “It’s a sad story,” said Jack Frost, “but here it is”: “Two excellent wings had the awkward auk, But he was never known to fly, Preferring a rambling, shambling walk, And the walruses wondered why; Yet there seems no reason that on this point Their minds should have been so hazy, For it’s clear to me as a thing can be That the awkward auk was lazy. “Though he might have skirted the rainbow’s rim Or circled above the seas, The only gait that appealed to him Was one of reposeful ease; He strutted about o’er the crags and cliffs In a most ungainly fashion, And the fowls that flew he was prone to view With a kind of cold compassion. “But it chanced one night that a hungry fox Got a look at the awkward auk, Who was strolling about on the spray-washed rocks With his usual clumsy walk; He made a dash for the startled bird, And the auk with a frown of fright On his furrowed brow, observed that now Was a crisis that called for flight. “He flapped and flopped with his feeble wings, And he wobbled his trifling tail; But, alas! The long-neglected things Were not of the least avail; Which is why the fox, as he licked his chops With a gratified gusto, winked, And is why the auk who preferred to walk Has come to be quite extinct.” Jack Frost had just finished the last word when the Meteor came flying up to them. “The Equator,” he said, “is at the North Pole, and the Evening Star is hiding under a glacier there. As soon as he melts the glacier----” “Everything will be lost,” finished Nimbus. “Come on, there is not a moment to lose.” “I’ll be there in a minute,” said Jack Frost, “but I’ve got to start those melted glaciers first; you know that’s my job, and I dare not neglect it.” “All right,” said Nimbus. “Billy and I will go on without you. Come on, Billy.” Billy started to follow him, but Nimbus, in his excitement, had completely forgotten the little boy. He struck up a pace that Billy could not possibly keep, and soon was out of hearing--a tiny speck on the vast white snowfield that stretched ahead toward the horizon. “I guess I’ll have to go with you, Jack Frost,” said Billy, turning sadly toward the spot where that worthy had been standing.