“Like the rabbuds. Well, we shall have to get out.”
“Yes, but how?” I cried.
“Same’s they do. Scratch yer way, and make a hole. I don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind!” I said, “it’s horrible.”
“Is it?” he replied quietly. “Why?”
“Don’t you see—”
“No,” he said sharply, “not werry well. I can a little.”
“But I mean, don’t you understand?” I cried in an awe-stricken choking voice, “that if we don’t get out soon, we shall die.”
“What, like when you kills a rabbud or a bird?”
“Yes.”