Everything worked out just as they had planned. They heard the strange,
hollow-sounding echoes of the watchman's voice dying down the halls, as
stair by stair they dropped the street lamps below them, and saw strange
shadows start out of things that were perfectly harmless and familiar
by day.

There was no light in the gallery except faint up-and-down glimmers from
the glass of the cases, and here and there the little spark of an eye.
Outside there was a whole world of light, the milky way of the street
with the meteor roar of the Elevated going by, processions of small
moons marching below them across the park, and blazing constellations in
the high windows opposite. Tucked into one of the window benches between
the cases, the children seemed to swing into another world where almost
anything might happen. And yet for at least a quarter of an hour
nothing did.

"I don't believe nothing ever does," said Dorcas Jane, who was not at
all careful of her grammar.

"Sh-sh!" said Oliver. They had sat down directly in front of the Buffalo
Trail, though Dorcas would have preferred to be farther away from the
Polar Bear. For suppose it hadn't been properly stuffed! But Oliver had
eyes only for the trail.

"I want to see where it begins and where it goes," he insisted.

So they sat and waited, and though the great building was never allowed
to grow quite cold, it was cool enough to make it pleasant for them to
sit close together and for Dorcas to tuck her hand into the crook of