"Well, I had that idea--but I see the foolishness of it. Which way
am I to go to get to my district?"

He called the under clerk that had examined the map, and he gave me
general directions. I thanked him and started; but he says--

"Wait a minute; it is millions of leagues from here. Go outside
and stand on that red wishing-carpet; shut your eyes, hold your
breath, and wish yourself there."

"I'm much obliged," says I; "why didn't you dart me through when I
first arrived?"

"We have a good deal to think of here; it was your place to think
of it and ask for it. Good-by; we probably sha'n't see you in this
region for a thousand centuries or so."

"In that case, o revoor," says I.

I hopped onto the carpet and held my breath and shut my eyes and
wished I was in the booking-office of my own section. The very
next instant a voice I knew sung out in a business kind of a way--

"A harp and a hymn-book, pair of wings and a halo, size 13, for
Cap'n Eli Stormfield, of San Francisco!--make him out a clean bill
of health, and let him in."

I opened my eyes. Sure enough, it was a Pi Ute Injun I used to
know in Tulare County; mighty good fellow--I remembered being at
his funeral, which consisted of him being burnt and the other