black stripe that ran down his yellow back skim ahead of them over the
road, just like a snake. And they liked the surrey, too. It had a
fringe all around the top, and high mudguards, and a whip with a
tassel and ribbon on it. But now that the great-aunts were in, Aunt
Abby's side rose way up in the air, she was so light, but Aunt
Phrony's sank down until the steel springs of the carriage groaned and
scrunched on the axles. The surrey looked like a boat when all the
passengers rush to one side to see who has fallen over.

There was no room for the boys, so they had to climb in the buggy.
But, after all, the Toyman was to drive, and that quite made up for
it. He might even let them drive, or tell them stories--about Ole Man
Pumpkin, or the stars, or the cowboys out West, or any one of a number
of wonderful things. So they were quite content as the Toyman said
"Gee-dap," and they drove off through the night.

They had gone but a short distance when they saw a light. It was
different from all the lights in the houses and the street lamps on
the corners, which shone steadily and all the while. This one
flickered and flared like a fire in the wind; and it smoked rather
badly, too.

Jehosophat and Marmaduke tried to guess what it was, but neither was
right. When they reached the corner of the street and got out of the
buggy, they saw a lot of boys, big boys and little boys, and men, too,
crowding around a wagon. The horses which had brought it there were
tied to a hitching post a little way off, and a man stood in the back
by the tailboard. The light which they had seen from afar shone over
his head, a strange sort of torch, and was fed with oil by a little
metal pan with a tube running to it. And it flickered oddly up and