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And he made all the motions of mounting a horse himself, and calling, “Charge!” to the soldiers. It was a beautiful game, and so real that Marmaduke felt he was actually flying through the air on a winged horse, at the head of a mighty column of soldiers, straight towards the Cloud City.

But alas! they didn’t take that city, for, as they came near it, a horn sounded from the valley below. They turned back to look and there far, far beneath them, they saw the White House with the Green Blinds By the Side of the Road, and Mother standing by the door. She looked ever so tiny, and she was blowing that horn over and over to call them to supper. They reined in their horses to listen, for they knew what they would hear in a minute. Yes, there it came, that other horn–it was Echo’s. And when they turned in their saddles to look at the Cloud City again, it had vanished–vanished at the sound of the horn, with all their horses and men.

“Oh dear!” said Marmaduke, when he found himself on the hill once more, the game all over and ended, “she’s always mocking us an’ spoiling things, that Echo. If I ever catch her, I–I’ll break her horn an’ throw it down the waterfall, so she can’t blow it again–ever.”

“Never mind, sonny, we’ll take that city some time,” said the Toyman.

“We had a lesson ’bout that, in Sunday school today,” Marmaduke told him, “all about ‘he who taketh the city.’ But the teacher said ‘he who conquers his spirit is greater’n he who taketh the city.’ How can you conquer a spirit, Toyman, when you can’t see it? Did you ever conquer your spirit?”

The Toyman looked very sober for a while, as they rose and turned their faces towards the road and the valley.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s what I’ve been trying to do all day. I had some trouble an’ temptation, an’ it was getting the best of me. You know, something bad in me that was tellin’ me to do things I’d oughtn’t to. I tried hard to get my fingers around that bad spirit an’ throw him out by his heels. That’s why I came up here on the hill to fight it out. You’ll understand some day–when you’re older.”

But, strange to say, the little boy thought he understood even then–at least part of it.

“Have you conquered it, Toyman?” he asked at last.

“I think so,” the Toyman answered slowly–“leastways I hope so.”

“And when did you conquer it?” the little boy prattled on.

The Toyman thought for a moment.

“When you just crep’ up behind me, so still an’ quiet, an’ put your face against mine.” And at that the Toyman hugged him again. “No, I guess we won’t take that city tonight–we’ve done a better job.”

As they walked to the brown ribbon road again, and over the hill to the valley, the sun was setting. They could see it perched like a gold saucer on the top of the hill, or like the shield of one of their soldiers. Gold bit by gold bit it sank below. Then it went altogether, out of sight, but the Cloud City came back again just for a moment, and a rosy light shone upon that Cloud City and all its banners, and towers, and spires.

Then suddenly it faded quite away. And the little boy and the Toyman walked home through the night, but they whistled together as they went.