from her fright, since nothing terrible seemed to happen. They were having a long journey under the cliffs; but she knew there must come an end to it some time, and probably they would float out of the dark tunnel into the daylight sooner or later.
On and on sped the little boat, until at last, as Dot lay staring into the darkness, she noticed a dim light about her, and began to see the rocky roof of the cavern through which they were passing.
Then she sat up, and, far away in the distance, she saw a round, bright spot that reminded her of a full moon. It seemed to be getting nearer and bigger, and finally she gave a cry of joy and awakened her companion.
"Tot! Oh, Tot!" she called. "We've got to the end at last and are coming out of the tunnel!"
Tot sat up and rubbed his eyes. He gave one careless glance at the opening, and then turned his eyes upon the lunch basket, saying, sleepily, "I'm hungry!"
CHAPTER V. – The Watch-Dog of Merryland
Of course, Dot paid no attention, during this exciting moment, to the boy's demand for food.
There would be plenty of time to eat after they were out of the tunnel and in safety.
The boat glided on as gracefully as a swan, and in a few minutes it passed through the jagged rocks that formed the mouth of the tunnel and floated into a broad, open river.
Dot and Tot quickly scrambled upon the seat and looked around them.
They were in a deep valley, shaped very much like a chopping bowl, only around the outer edge were high, peaked mountains. Not a tree nor a green thing was to be seen anywhere, but the valley was thickly covered with stones – big stones and little stones and stones of all sizes – scattered about in every direction.
Through the center of the valley ran the broad, blue river, at one end of which was now the boat, while at the other end the children saw a low archway, through which the water seemed to pass into some country beyond.
Very slowly the boat was floating toward this archway, and Dot decided there would be ample time to eat something from the basket before they had passed through the valley of stones.
"We may as well go on, Tot," she said, as she arranged the luncheon; "for this isn't a pleasant place to stop in, and we should never be able to climb over those high mountains."
"Never could," agreed Tot, as he bit into a sandwich.
"What a queer place this is," she continued, looking around them. "I don't believe anyone has ever been here before. Let us give it a name. That's what all explorers do. We'll call it Stony Vale."
"All right," said Tot, contentedly. Then he stretched out his arm and pointed to something that was moving among the stones.
"See!" he said. "Funny man."
"Why, I really believe it is, Tot!" exclaimed the girl, looking toward the place. "No, it isn't a man; it's a bear."
"Bear!" repeated Tot, with wide open eyes. "Funny bear!"
Halfway up the valley they saw a shaggy-looking creature sitting upon a rock. It seemed to have the form of a man, as Tot had first declared; but it was covered with long, thick hair, which made Dot decide it must be a bear.
Whatever it was, the creature was surely alive, and it had also seen the boat, for the next moment it rose from the rock and came bounding down to the shore of the river, leaping from stone to stone, and moving so swiftly that its long hair streamed out behind it in the wind.
The boat was now being carried by the current directly toward the shore, and soon its front end touched softly upon the gravelly beach. At the same time the strange creature drew closer to them and sat down upon a big stone only a few feet away.
Dot and Tot had been watching it, and now saw that what they had taken for a bear was an old man, with whiskers and hair so long that they reached down to the soles of his feet, and probably would have grown still longer had not the rough stones worn away the ends of the hair. Not a bit of his body could be seen; the flowing white hair covered him everywhere like a gown, except upon the top of his head, which was smooth and bald. So thick, indeed, was the covering that when he stretched out his arms, the old man could only push his hands and wrists through the masses of hair.
The curious appearance of this strange person surprised the children, and they remained for some time staring at him without trying to say a word.
The hairy man looked at them, in return with equal interest, and was the first to speak, saying in a mild, sad voice:
"Strangers, who are you?"
"I'm Dot, sir," answered the girl. "Dot Freeland."
"She's Dot F'eelun'," repeated Tot.
"And this is my friend, Tot Thompson," she continued.
"I'm Tot Tompum," said Tot gravely.
"Oh," replied the man. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm the Watch-Dog of Merryland."
"What a queer name!" exclaimed Dot. "Why do they call you that?"
"Because I'm placed here to keep everyone from passing through the archway that spans the river into the fair and happy valleys of Merryland."
"How can you keep them from passing through?" asked the girl.
"Why, tell them they mustn't, of course."
"But suppose they won't mind you, what will you do then?"
The old man looked puzzled, and shook his head slowly.
"I'm sure I don't know what I could do in that case," he answered. "You see, no one has ever before come here since I was commanded to guard the entrance to Merryland."
"How long have you been here?" inquired Dot.
"About three hundred years, I think; but I've lost track of the exact time."
"Don't you ever die?" asked Tot wondering at this great age.
"I haven't died yet," answered the old man, thoughtfully.
"But you will, won't you?" persisted the boy.
"Why, I suppose so, if the Queen lets me," was the reply.
"Who is the Queen?" questioned Dot.
"She who rules Merryland," answered the man.
Then, for a few moments, there was silence, while Dot and Tot stared at the hairy old man and he stared at them.
Presently Dot broke the silence the stillness by asking, "What do you do in this lonesome place, where you have no one to talk to?"
"Why, most of the time I watch, as it is my duty to do. And when I get lonely, I count my whiskers."
"Oh!" said Dot. Then she inquired, curiously, "How many whiskers have you?"
"Well," answered the Watch-Dog of Merryland, confidentially, "there are either eighty-seven thousand four hundred and twenty-six, or else eighty-seven thousand four hundred and twenty-eight. Sometimes I make it one figure and sometimes the other, so I can't really tell which is right. I was engaged in counting my whiskers when I looked up and saw your boat.
