this respect, I'm just informed, all pickles are the same.
A large policeman came along, a-swinging of his club,
And took that little pickle up and put him in a tub.

"That's rather good about taking him up," said the Highlander, chuckling
to himself; "so exactly like a policeman, you know."

"Oh, yes, indeed," said Dorothy, who was ready to scream with laughter.
"What's the rest of it?"

"There isn't any more," said the Highlander, rather confusedly. "There
was going to be another verse, but I couldn't think of anything more to
say."

"Oh, well, it's very nice as it is," said Dorothy, consolingly; and
then, as the Highlander put up his paper and went away, she laughed till
her eyes were full of tears. "They are _all_ funny," she said at last,
as she walked away through the wood, "but I think _he's_ funnier than
all of 'em put together"--which, by the way, was not a very sensible
remark for her to make, as you will see if you'll take the trouble to
think it over.

[Illustration: "'THERE ISN'T ANY MORE,' SAID THE HIGHLANDER, RATHER
CONFUSEDLY."]

But presently, as she strolled along, she made a discovery that quite
drove the Highlander and his ridiculous poetry out of her head. It was a
tower in the wood; not an ordinary tower, of course, for there would
have been nothing remarkable about that, but a tower of shining brass,
and so high that the top of it was quite out of sight among the
branches of the trees. But the strangest thing about it was that there
seemed to be no possible way of getting into it, and Dorothy was very
cautiously walking around it to see if she could find any door when she
came suddenly upon the Caravan standing huddled together, and apparently
in a state of great excitement.

"What is it?" asked Dorothy, eagerly.

"Hush!" said the Admiral, in an agitated whisper. "We think it's where
Bob Scarlet changes himself"--and as he said this there was a tremendous
flapping of wings, and down came Bob Scarlet through the branches and
landed with a thump a little way from where they were standing. He was
as big as a goose again, and his appearance was so extremely formidable
that the Caravan, as one man, threw themselves flat on their faces in a
perfect frenzy of terror, and Dorothy herself hid in the grass, with her
heart beating like a little eight-day clock. But Bob Scarlet fortunately
paid no more attention to any of them than if they had been so many
flies, and, after strutting about f