"I must be very near the end of my journey," said Billy the morning after he ruined Nickel Plate's new coat. "I have been on the air road a long time, and certainly I have had some queer adventures. What shall I say to Bogie Man when I do see him, I wonder——" but here he lit on the ground and looked around him. About half a block behind him he saw a most peculiar looking bridge—a bridge that seemed to be floating in the air and yet came very near to touching the ground at each end.

But what interested him was the dark and dismal looking city on the other side of the bridge.

"Why, that's strange. The bridge and the city are behind me, so I must have passed over them; yet I don't remember seeing them at all."

Billy had been looking at them over his shoulder and now turned to get a better view. But when he turned he saw nothing before him but a great wide stretch of land—the bridge and the city had disappeared. "I am sure I saw a bridge and city over there," and he casually turned his head to look around him again—there at his back were the objects he sought. "I must have turned all the way round without noticing it, but this time I'm going to keep an eye on them when I turn." So Billy turned very, very slowly, keeping a close watch on the bridge and city. But as he turned, they turned; it made no difference how fast or how slow the motion.

"Barker, old dog," he said finally in despair, "I'm afraid my head is turned. I want you to try it." So he took Barker out of his pocket and placed him on the ground. Then he turned his own and Barker's heads over their shoulders, and pointing to the city said, "Watch, it, good dog, watch it."

Barker undoubtedly understood, and as his neck wasn't comfortable with his head turned, he turned his body around. He stopped and looked around him in the greatest dog surprise, caught sight of the city over his shoulder, and turned again. Then he began to get excited, and before Billy could stop him was spinning round and round like a kitten after its tail. And he spun and spun and he spun, Billy all the time trying to make head or tail of him, until he got so dizzy that he fell over on his side. "Good old dog," cried Billy, picking him up and putting him in his pocket. "You have proved that I'm not the only one who can't get the bridge in front of him. But I have made up my mind to get to that city if it takes the rest of my life, for it looks to me like Never Was where Bogie Man lives." And with that he commenced to walk backwards. And he walked and walked and walked, but not an inch nearer to the bridge did he get.

"I wonder if I could jump backwards. I'll try it." And back he jumped. Up he went and back he flew. It wasn't a very comfortable feeling, either, not to know just where he was going, and he certainly hoped he wouldn't bump into any buildings when he did reach the city. But he closed his eyes and waited, until at last his feet touched earth. Then he opened his eyes and looked around him, expecting to find himself in the middle of the city. Not a bit of it. There he was in the same spot he had started from, with the bridge and the city just over his shoulder.

"Well, I'll be gum swizzled!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"I shouldn't," said an important looking man in a black uniform and a little round cap bearing the words "Toll Gate Keeper." "You might be gummed, you know, like an envelope, but it wouldn't do to be swizzled."

"What is swizzled?" asked Billy.

"How should I know? But you should, for you said you would be."

"It was just an expression with me."

"Oh! you meant to say you would be expressed. What are the express rates on boys?"

"No, I didn't mean that; what I meant to say is that what I meant to say was—oh! pshaw! I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Of course you don't, and as I don't, either, let's change the subject." And the Toll Gate Keeper nodded his head very gravely.

"Then can you tell me what city that is back there?" asked Billy, pointing over his shoulder.

"Yes," said the Toll Man, and then he began to hum a tune as though that closed the discussion.

"Well?" said Billy.

"Quite well, thank you—how do you feel?"

"But I didn't mean that—I was waiting for an answer to my question."

"I've answered all the questions you've asked; of course, if you haven't asked it yet you can't expect me to answer it."

"But I asked you if you could tell me what city that is back there."

"And I said 'yes, I could.' I'm sure that's answering your question." And the Toll Man looked grieved.

"Then why don't you tell me?"

"Because you haven't asked me to—why should I waste my valuable time answering questions that were never asked?"

"Then what city is it?" asked Billy, angrily.

"Never Was."

"Thank you—and now I will ask you: do I have to cross that bridge to get there?"

"You've already crossed it," said the Toll Gate Keeper, "and I'm here to collect your toll."

"I beg your pardon, I haven't crossed it," said Billy.

"Oh, but you have, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"But how could I have crossed it? I haven't gotten to it yet."

"Of course not; if you had gotten to it you wouldn't have crossed it," and the Toll man looked at Billy as much as to say, "Well, you are a dull boy if you can't understand that."

"That's ridiculous," said Billy. "What sort of a bridge is it, anyway?"

"The bridge that people cross before they come to it."

"But there is no such bridge."

"Of course there's not, that's the reason people cross it before they get to it."

"Then how am I to get to the city?"

"I don't know and I don't care. I didn't send you there—all I know is that the only way to Never Was is over the bridge that people cross before they get to it."

"Then all I can see is that I shall have to cross the bridge," said Billy.

"I've told you that you've already crossed it."

"Stop a minute," cried Billy, putting his fingers in his ears, "my head is in a whirl."

"How can I stop a minute? I'd have to catch it first, and don't you know that time flies?"

"I mean wait for a minute."

"Which minute do you want me to wait for?"

"Oh, stop it, stop it!—don't stop anything—I mean don't wait for anything—if you say another word I'll go crazy."

And poor bewildered Billy sat down on the ground and buried his face in his hands.

"There, I feel better," said he, finally, raising his head. "Who are you, please?"

"I'm the Toll Gate Keeper, also The Man That People Borrow Trouble From."

"Oh!" said Billy.

"No, I don't owe, I lend, and it's a poor business, for no one ever pays me back. More people owe me a grudge than a Thousand Legger can count on its fingers and toes."

"Aren't you afraid to have so many people owing you a grudge?" asked Billy.

"How can I help it? They borrow trouble from me without asking for it, and anyway it worries them more than it does me."

"This is certainly a topsy-turvy place," said Billy. "What is that sign on the bridge—is it in Greek?"

"Oh, no! that's just because you see the back of it; it's only for people who are crossing, and says, 'Walk your Horses.'"

"Do horses ever cross the bridge?"

"None have so far—it's just put there in case they should. You know if wishes were horses beggars would ride, and, of course, if you put a beggar on horseback he will ride you down. That would make it very unpleasant for any one who was walking if there should ever happen to be any."

"Do many people cross the bridge?" asked Billy.

"I don't know, I'm sure—as they all cross it before they get to it, by the time they get there they have already crossed it, so it's impossible to make them pass through the turnstiles."

"I wish I knew how to get to Never Was," said Billy sadly.

"I can't help you; because what has once been done can't be undone, unless time turns back, and as what you have done was done before you did it, I don't see how you can ever do it."

"No, I'm very sure you can't help me," said Billy. "But of one thing I am certain, I must get to Bogie Man's house."

"You will do well if you do, for no one has ever seen Bogie Man," said the Toll Gate Keeper.

"No one has ever seen him?"

"No—lots of people have thought they saw him but he keeps himself just out of sight."

"I wonder what time it is?" said Billy, pulling out his Waterbury. "I do hate to waste so much time—why it can't be eleven o'clock yet."

"Just half past ten," said the Toll Man, pulling out his sun dial.

"I wonder what's happened to my watch? I must turn it back," and pressing the spring Billy turned the hands back to ten thirty. Just at that moment he happened to catch sight of the bridge over his shoulder, and, strange to say, it was almost in touching distance.

"Hurrah!" he cried, delightedly, "here's the bridge right here—now I'm sure to catch it," and he ran backwards as hard as he could, but without getting an inch nearer to it.

"How did it get here, anyway?" he asked.

"I don't know," said the Bridge Keeper. "I noticed it coming up while you were setting your watch back."

"That's it—that's it," cried Billy. "Don't you know, you said that what has once been done can't be undone unless time turns back."

"What has that got to do with it?"

"Can't you see when I turned time back, up came the bridge? Now I am going to turn it back more and get to the other side."

"Don't risk it, don't risk it," cried the Toll Gate Keeper, in great excitement. "If you should happen to be lost between two hours, you might never catch up with time again."

But Billy did not heed the warning, for he knew he could turn his watch ahead again and make up for any lost time that way.

So back went the hands of the watch and, "Spang!" Billy stood in the dark and dismal streets of Never Was.

Far, far off in front of him (this time) was the bridge, and on the other side, waving his arms in despair, stood the Toll Gate Keeper.