Billy had been looking out of the window. A long way off he noticed a row of enormous signs, each with curious characters on it, all outlined in bright green and blue stars. “Signs of the Zodiac,” said the Meteor, coming to a sudden stop and looking over Billy’s shoulder. “‘Keep off the sky,’ and ‘No loose dogs allowed,’ and such like. The Aerolites have just turned ’em on. They come right after the twilight.” “I--I don’t think I understand,” said Billy. “Neither do I,” said the Meteor, “but I’ll explain it in a minute. I’ve got a few shots in me now that have got to go off.” He leaped to his feet and began to dart backward and forward in the car till Nimbus, who was writing on a pad of paper, became irritated and slammed the car-door on the Meteor’s tail. “Isn’t he peevish!” said the Meteor, sinking down at Billy’s side. “But as I was saying about the Aerolites, every night the Sun goes down, as you know, and it would be pitch dark until the Moon and the Stars came up if it wasn’t for them. “One of them keeps watch until he sees the Sun starting to slide behind a mountain or into the sea, and then he tells the others, and they all hurry around and light the twilights. When they have them all lit there is enough light to see by till the Moon and the Stars get out of bed for the night. After that they can light the Signs of the Zodiac. They get paid for that. Lighting the twilights they have to do for their board and lodging and motive power.” Nimbus left off writing. “I think that will do,” he said, handing the pad to Billy. Billy read: “V. E. Ox, Equator. “Of all the good-for-nothing, idle, dull-witted, stupid, feather-brained idiots I have met in twelve million years you are easily the worst. Send that Spring Tide to bed for a week. Get the other Equine Ox and a regiment of elephants and sit on the Equator till I get there. If he tries to get away duck him in the ocean. My only regret is that you have but four stomachs instead of ninety-four to get indigestion in. “Yours disgustedly, NIMBUS.” The Meteor took the paper from Billy’s hand, Nimbus released the tail from the door and he shot forth into the night. Billy began to be very much distressed about the darkness, remembering his promise to his mother to be home for dinner. Nimbus, noticing his troubled face and feeling better now that he had unburdened himself of his opinion of the Equine Ox, sat beside him and said cheerfully: “Never mind, Billy, it’s always half dark up here. We’re out of the air, you know, and we have to have air to see the light through, just as your mother has to have opera-glasses to see the play through. We’ll be home in time for dinner. Never fear.” At this assurance Billy felt much better, and became very eager to see the great fight that he knew would take place when they got down to the Equator and took part in the effort to keep him from escaping.