“Oh, yes, of course,” agreed Dick, who did not care to go into the Dodo private grievances, and who certainly did not care to run the risk of being “gopheled on both sides,” whatever that might mean; “but don’t you think we had better be going now?”
“How are we going to get back?” demanded the Dodo, abruptly. “I can’t swim and I can’t fly. You’ll have to carry me.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Marjorie, in dismay. “I’m sure we can’t do that! Why, you are as big as we are!”
“Well, I’m sure I don’t know what is to be done,” said the Dodo. “I won’t get into the water again for any one, so there.”
Just then, Fidge, who had been playing on the shore, ran back with the news that the little thin fish wanted to speak to them.
“Oh! Sorry to trouble you,” he began, popping his head out of the water and raising his hat politely; “but His Majesty sent me to inquire how you were getting on. I see you have found him,” he added, pointing to the Dodo.
“Yes; but now we are in another fix,” cried the children; “we don’t know how to get the creature home.”
"The Dodo cut a strange figure."