No one seemed to notice Bumper hopping along with Spotty the Chameleon on his back. Ordinarily such a thing would have caused a laugh, and perhaps jeers. But now every one was so terrified that he paid no attention to any one else.
In leaping over a clump of bushes, Bumper suddenly heard a voice call to him. “Oh, Bumper, what am I going to do? I can’t run fast enough to beat the fire. Oh! Oh! I shall be roasted alive!”
Bumper stopped and looked down at Lazy the Snail, who was making all the haste he could to get away; but it was a ludicrously slow pace. It seemed as if he almost stood still when he was crawling the fastest.
“Why, Lazy, can’t you run faster?” Bumper asked.
“No, you can see I’m doing my best. I never was much of a runner.”
“I should think not,” laughed Bumper. “I might give you a lift of a few yards, but that wouldn’t do much good. The fire would soon catch up to you.”
“No, that wouldn’t save me,” wailed Lazy. “Nothing will save me. I’m going to be roasted alive.”
Bumper looked distressed. The thought of leaving Lazy behind to be burnt up was more than he could stand. Spotty the Chameleon clinging to his back had already become a burden to him, and he felt that another on his back would handicap him dreadfully. However, he couldn’t leave Lazy the Snail.
“Crawl up on my back, Lazy, and I’ll carry you,” he said finally. “But you must hurry! The fire’s coming very fast.”
Lazy was so slow in crawling up that Bumper several times grew impatient and urged him to hurry. When he was finally on one shoulder, clinging to it with his moist feet, Bumper started off once more. He had to make up for lost time, and he hopped along at the top of his speed.