"How she know, then?"
"They agree, I tell you."
"Oh—an' girl—just come—when he call? Oh-h!" She dropped her jaw, and stared. "No fight a little?" she gasped. "No scream quite small?"
"No, I tell you." He ran on and joined the Colonel. Muckluck stood several moments rooted in amazement.
Yagorsha had called the rest of the Pymeuts out, for these queer guests of theirs were evidently going at last.
They all said "Goo'-bye" with great goodwill. Only Muckluck in her chilly "Holy Cross clo'es" stood sorrowful and silent, swinging her medal slowly back and forth.
Nicholas warned them that the Pymeut air-hole was not the only one.
"No," Yagorsha called down the slope; "better no play tricks with him." He nodded towards the river as the travellers looked back. "Him no like. Him got heap plenty mouths—chew you up." And all Pymeut chuckled, delighted at their story-teller's wit.
Suddenly Muckluck broke away from the group, and ran briskly down to the river trail.
"I will pray for you—hard." She caught hold of the Boy's hand, and shook it warmly. "Sister Winifred says the Good Father—"