So they started off to take a look, and we played hide and seek with them in the sand drifts and behind grass clumps. But they were thorough.
Catty grabbed my arm, and we lay down behind a bush, and then he commenced to throw sand over us. I caught on in a second, and we went at it like groundhogs. In a few minutes we were covered right to the tips of our noses, and there we lay. They could hunt for a week, and if they didn’t step right onto us, they wouldn’t see us. And then—well, I didn’t like it. I heard House yell.
“Somebody was here,” he says. “I see footprints.”
Then they started to hunt in earnest, and the next thing, their voices got mighty close and closer, and there they were standing right over us. We didn’t even breathe, and then what should House do but take another step right onto the center of the middle of my stummick. I let out a yell and caught him by the leg, and down he went in a heap. Catty ducked up, right between the other man’s legs and we were off, running for dear life.
It took them a few seconds to get over being startled and that gave us a start. We made for the shore of the bay, and Catty had just breath enough to give three whistles for our catboat. We waded out into the water as far as we could, and waited. No catboat. We waited some more. No catboat—and Mr. House and Company were there, on shore, and just stepping into the water.
“Swim for it,” says Catty, and we plunged ahead, clothes and all, and went lickety-split out into the bay. And then the moon went under and it was dark as pitch.
“We’ll borrow their dinghy, if we can beat them to it.”
“Huh,” says I, and saved my breath to swim with.
We kept veering toward shore, and pretty soon my feet touched, and we kind of crawled up through the water, just keeping our faces out. And talk about luck. We walked right into that black dinghy. There she was as big as life and twice as natural.
We did and swam out about fifty yards with her. Then we crawled in.
“Howdy-do,” says a voice, and a couple of the biggest hands I ever saw, dropped right out of the sky and collared Catty and me.
I’ll own up I was surprised and, though Catty doesn’t like to admit he’s ever surprised, I’ll bet he was, too. I’ll bet he was so surprised he almost shed his ears and that’s about as surprised as a fellow can get without going to a lot of trouble and annoyance. Right out of a clear sky those great big hands came down on the backs of our necks and hung on. Next time I crawl into a dinghy you can believe I’m going to take a peek in to see if anybody’s there.