“It was a snake!” cried Dick, excitedly, “and I was trying to kill it.”
“Snake, indeed!” said the Palæotherium, wrathfully. “It was my tail.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry,” exclaimed Dick, “I really thought it was a snake, you know. I beg your pardon. I do hope I haven’t hurt you very much.”
“H’m! Well, I can’t say that it was very pleasant,” said the Palæotherium, “but if you are really sorry I’ll forgive you—only you mustn’t let it happen again.”
“Shouldn’t have a tail like a snake,” said Fidge, half crying, “and shouldn’t let it come over in our bed.”
The Palæotherium muttered something that neither of the children could understand, and retired, and, except for the Prehistoric Doctor’s snoring, all was quiet again.
This time the children really did get to sleep, and when they awoke the carriage was quite light, and Dick, looking out through the little window at the side of his berth, could see that they were traveling through some very delightful country.
“Wake up! Wake up, Marjorie,” he cried, “it’s morning.”
“I’m velly hungry,” announced Fidge, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Yes, so am I,” admitted Dick; “we must see what we can do to get some food.”