“I can’t tell,” said he ‘of the shadows; “but I do know that I’m hungry. Let us eat, and leave exploring until afterwards.”
So they sat down to breakfast. Now, just as they had finished they heard someone coming, and as he came he sang:
“Twisted himself into a note of interrogation.”
“Who: to Puzzledom would get,
Caius epistolam scribet;
He or she, or it, or that,
Balbus carmen cantabat,
Has to find a guide and key,
X Y Z and W V:
Rich or poor, whoe′er you be,
U T S and R Q P.
Mind you come in time for tea.
Twenty-seven′s the cube of three.
If you′re wise you′ll come before.
Sixteen is the square of—Hello!”
“Good-morning,” said the maker of ghosts. “Will you kindly direct us to Puzzledom?”
“Willingly,” replied the Puzzler. “Bisect the foot of the ladder, which makes the first declension; the inflatus of the hypothenuse of its parabolic curve should give the centre of the square.” He paused, and then added: “Pardon me, I see that you are strangers: with your permission I will call a key-spook.”
And, having done so, the obliging Puzzler wished them a pleasant journey.
They turned to the spook. That worthy carried a large bunch of keys at his girdle. His nature was simple and confiding; he was, in fact, so plain and transparent that you could easily see through him. Never for a moment still, he fidgeted about, tying his arms and legs into knots, and then untying them again. And now he said nothing, but twisted himself into a note of interrogation.
“Puzzledom,” said the maker of ghosts promptly.
The spook nodded, and producing from his girdle the key to the situation, he led the two friends on until, the mist clearing, they saw, at a short distance before them, the town of Puzzledom. They closely followed their guide along a maze-like path, where high trees on every side hid the landscape. Sometimes the party had to return upon their steps. Sometimes they trod underground passages; but at
