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The little boy felt very happy over that, but, for some reason or other, he felt quite embarrassed, too. Often, when he felt happiest, he couldn’t put his happiness into words–he just couldn’t talk about the particular thing that was making him happy. And, strange to say, he would usually talk about something quite different. So he said,–

“Let’s see your knife.”

The Toyman took it out. It was a beauty, too, with five blades, all of different sizes, and a corkscrew.

Marmaduke tried to open one of the blades, but he couldn’t, they were too strong for his fingers.

So the Toyman took it.

“Which shall it be?” he asked.

“The very biggest,” came the answer, “and oh, Toyman, let’s play ‘Mumbledy Peg!'”

“A galoochious idea!” exclaimed the Toyman, “how did you ever think of it?”

“Oh!” said Marmaduke, “I thought of it–just like this”; and he snapped his fingers to show just how quick. “But pshaw! I could think of lots more galoochious than that.” Then he added in delight,–“The one who loses has to pull the peg out of the ground with his teeth.”

Meanwhile the Toyman was driving that peg into the ground. When it was in so far that it seemed as if no Thirty White Horses could ever pull it out, they began the game–the famous game of Mumbledy Peg.

First, Marmaduke put the knife in the palm of his right hand and made that knife turn a somersault in the air. And it landed right on the blade point and stuck upright in the ground.

Then, taking the knife in the palm of his left hand, he made it turn another somersault in the air. Again it landed on the point of the blade and stuck in the ground, quivering deliciously.

“Neat work!” said the Toyman. Probably he said it too soon, for on the very next try Marmaduke missed, and the Toyman had his turn.

He took the knife and got just as far as Marmaduke with his tricks, then he missed, too.

So Marmaduke took another turn and clenched his right fist tight shut, and threw the knife in the air from that, and it turned another somersault clean, and landed straight up in the ground. And he did the same with his left hand clenched. He was getting on famously!

The next trick in the game of Mumbledy Peg was to twirl the knife from the tip of the first finger, then from the second, and so on. When Marmaduke tried it from the third finger, the knife fell on its point, quivered feebly as if it were sick, then fell over on its side, only part way up in the air.

“Can you get two fingers under it–between the blade and the ground?” said the Toyman eagerly. “If you can, it’s all right.”

“You try?” said Marmaduke.

“What–with these fingers?” laughed the Toyman, “you’d better try yours–you’d have more of a chance.”

So Marmaduke tried, and just managed to squeeze his two smallest between the blade and the ground. But when he tried twirling it from his last finger he failed. The knife fell over on its side, and he couldn’t squeeze any two of his fingers, even the smallest, between the grass and the blade.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed, “I always miss with my ‘pinky.'”

However, the Toyman missed with his fourth finger, and Marmaduke was still ahead.

“I’m off my game,” the Toyman explained a little later, as he threw the knife over his left shoulder and failed, “and you’re in rare form!”

Now this was strange, for the Toyman was so good at work and games and everything, but I’m thinking it was like that time they played marbles–he did it on purpose, just to let the little boy have the fun of winning. That would have been like the Toyman.

Anyway, the last time Marmaduke threw the knife through the air, and it made its last somersault and stuck up in the ground, straight as straight as could be and quivering like a jews-harp, the Toyman said,–