Читать книгу The Runaway Equator, and the Strange Adventures of a Little Boy in Pursuit of It онлайн

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“Indigestion in four stomachs must be terribly distressing,” said Billy. “But what is an Equine Ox?”

“You surely see one twice a year,” said Nimbus. “But they are always around. They have to be somewhere.”

“I suppose they do,” said Billy, “but what are they?”

“Their names are Vernal and Autumnal. Here’s a poem I wrote about them once. My friends say I am conceited about my poetry, but I’m not. I don’t think it is as good as it really is.”

“I never had an Equine Ox

To glad me with its soft brown eye,

But when I stroked its brindled locks

It always rudely asked me why.

“I never whispered fondly in

The creature’s smooth and velvet ear,

That it did not absurdly grin

And shed a cadent, mirthful tear.

“I never clasped its crumpled horn,

Nor gazed on it with loving look,

That it did not give moos of scorn

And sometimes even try to hook.

“So, though I love the Equine Ox,

I must admit that, on the whole,

His conduct very often shocks

My trusting and confiding soul.”

“That,” said Nimbus, “will give you an excellent idea of the Equine Ox. Now let us enchant that trolley car and be off about our business.”