“I never had an Equine Ox To glad me with its soft brown eye, But when I stroked its brindled locks It always rudely asked me why. “I never whispered fondly in The creature’s smooth and velvet ear, That it did not absurdly grin And shed a cadent, mirthful tear. “I never clasped its crumpled horn, Nor gazed on it with loving look, That it did not give moos of scorn And sometimes even try to hook. “So, though I love the Equine Ox, I must admit that, on the whole, His conduct very often shocks My trusting and confiding soul.” “That,” said Nimbus, “will give you an excellent idea of the Equine Ox. Now let us enchant that trolley car and be off about our business.” “Pooh!” said Billy, “you can’t enchant a trolley car.” “There you go again,” said Nimbus, “never believing in things. Bring me a trolley car and I’ll show you whether or not I can enchant it.” “_I_ can’t bring you a trolley car,” said Billy. “You’ll have to hail one on the street if you want one. Anyway they don’t go to the Equator; they only go to town.” “We’ll see where they go,” returned Nimbus. “If I were going alone I’d go on a cloud, but I don’t suppose you could sit on a cloud, could you?” He regarded Billy doubtfully. “I’m sure I couldn’t,” said Billy. “Besides, what’s the need of going at all?” “Oh, I really must go! A foolish Spring Tide broke one of the tropics the other day, and if the other gets broken there will be nothing to hold the Equator down but the meridians, and you know they’re very fragile.” Billy didn’t know that, but he nodded intelligently. It is always best to pretend to know more about geography than you really do. “We’ll be back in time for dinner,” continued Nimbus; “that is, if I don’t have to fasten up the tides again.” “Why,” said Billy, “you don’t mean to say you have to fasten the tides?” “Certainly!” replied Nimbus. “You know the tides are always trying to put out the Moon, and they go chasing around the Earth after her night and day. Of course the shore stops them after a while and drives them back, and that’s what makes them high and low. They’re high when they run up and try to wash over the shore, and low when the shore drives them back again. But to keep them from going too far we tie them down with meridians. That’s why they call them tides. Each one is tied, don’t you see?” “Gracious!” exclaimed Billy. “I hope they can’t get untied and put the Moon out.” “Oh, they won’t,” Nimbus assured him, “while I’m watching them! Sometimes they sneak up on her out of the ocean in little drops that we call mist, but the Sun always catches them at it, and sends them scurrying down in rain again.” “I almost believe I’ll go,” said Billy, “if you’re sure we can be back in time.” “Not a doubt of it,” said Nimbus; “I’ll send you back on a meteor if I have to stay.”