The little staircase seemed very dark and pokey to Mr. Bushy Tail, and he devoutly hoped that nothing would jump out and bite him.
After a number of windings, however, he saw a faint light below him, and a few moments later, he stepped through a low doorway, and found himself close beside his quilly acquaintance.
“How do you do, and where did you drop from?” asked Squeaky Voice.
“I am sure I don’t know where I dropped from,” replied Mr. Bushy Tail, “but I came a long distance, at a very high rate of speed.”
“Have a few ants for luncheon?” inquired Mr. Quills.
“Have a few what?” asked the astonished Mr. Bushy Tail.
“Ants,” replied the Quilly One. “Red ants! White ants! Black ants! Speckled ants!—just any kind of ants. They are all excellent, both as food and appetizers.”
“No, thank you,” said Mr. Bushy Tail, in rather a disgusted voice. “I do not care for ants. Do you eat nothing else?”