They stood in
a row and listened intently. Hardly a sound came from the interior of
the bramble bushes. The soldier had justified his title. He had
retired pletely. To Judy it occurred that he might be suffocated, to
Tim that he might have been eaten by some animal, to Uncle Felix that
he might have slipped out at the other side and made his escape. But
no one expressed these idle thoughts in words. They believed in
Stumper really. He invariably came back. This time would be no
exception to the rule.
And, presently, as usual, Stumper did come back. They heard him
grunting and panting long before a sign of him was visible. They heard
his voice, "Got him! Knew I was right! Bah! Ugh!" as he spluttered
earth and leaves from his mouth apparently. He emerged by degrees and
backwards; backed out, indeed, like an enormous rabbit. His boots, his
legs, his hands planted on the ground, his neck and then his face,
looking out over his shoulder, appeared successively. "Just the kind
of place he _would_ choose!" he exclaimed triumphantly, collapsing
back upon his haunches and taking a long, deep breath. Beside the
triumph in his voice there was a touch of indescribable, gruff
sweetness the children knew was always in his heart--no amount of
curried-liver trouble could smother _that_.
Pages:
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362