“Why, it’s just like a cabin in a ship,” the sailor declared. “This is just fine!”
“Oh, but look how high up it is!” cried Mary. “I never can climb up there—never—never! And there is no ladder!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said the two-humped camel, kindly. “I will show you how you can get in the little house on my back with no more trouble than it is to wash your face. Are you all ready to start for home?”
“Oh, yes!” said all the Trippertrot children at once.
And then the camel gave a grunt, and he knelt down in the street, and that made his back come quite low, and the little house with the red lamp and the red curtains was near enough so that the jolly sailor could lift up Mary and Tommy and Johnny into it.
“Now, hold fast!” cried the camel, “for it sort of jiggles one about, when I get up off my knees. Hold fast.”
Inside the house were some benches, and a little table, and the children and the sailor held fast to the benches. And it is a good thing they did, or they might have fallen out, for the camel nearly stood on his head when he got up off his knees.
“Now, here we go,” called the camel, and off he started for the Trippertrot home, swinging along with big strides.
And then, all of a sudden, the children, who had drawn the curtains of the little red house close together, so they couldn’t see outside—all at once, I say, they heard some one shout:
“Hold on, stop, if you please! I’d like to come up there!”