‘He couldn’t be much more of a fool than he is,’ grunted the pig. ‘He knows nothing about us really.’
At this moment David heard an irregular kind of hopping noise coming down the passage, and, just as he turned to look, the pin-partridge ran between his legs. It flew on to the roof of the ark, and began pecking at it.
‘Let me in,’ it shouted. ‘I believe it’s the first of September. What cads you fellows are not to let me in!’
‘You always think it’s the first of September,’ said the cow. ‘Now look at me; I’m milked every day, which must hurt me much more than being shot once.’
‘Not if it’s properly done,’ said the partridge. ‘I know lots of cows who like it.’
‘But it’s improperly done,’ said the cow. ‘David knows less about milking than anybody since the flood. You wait till I catch him alone, and see if I can’t teach him something about tossing.’
This sounded a very awful threat, and David, who knew that it was best to take cows as well as bulls by the horns, determined on a bold policy.
‘If I hear one word more about tossing, I shan’t let any of you out,’ he said.
There was dead silence.
‘Who’s that?’ said the cow in a trembling voice, for she was a coward as well as a cow.