"Then you must surely come," Hortense urged. "You might be captured, or something, and then you could be dreadfully melancholy and write the beautifullest poetry!"
"True," said Highboy. "Sorrow is the food of poets."
Consequently, when all was still and Grandfather and Grandmother were safely in bed, Highboy went willingly enough with Hortense down the dark silent stairs and past Grandmother's sitting room.
"May I not say a farewell to Lowboy?" said Highboy with tears in his voice.
"Not at all," said Hortense briskly. "He might want to come, too."
They went softly into the parlor, and Hortense whispered to Malay Kris, telling him of the night's expedition.
"Good," said Malay Kris. "If I see the Cat or the other one, I'll slither through their bones."
He spoke in a low, fierce voice and jumped down lightly so as not to awaken Alligator, who seemed to be asleep, but it was of no use. Without opening his eyes, Alligator grunted,
"Where do I come in?"
"Why, you see," said Hortense embarrassed, "you're so big you couldn't get into the little room nor climb down the ladder."