"It came in handy for them, too. That part of the country got flooded one springtime in the middle of the night and there wasn't a dry match or a light to be had anywhere. Then those children, who had traveled all that country scores of times in the dark with me, saved a great many lives. They acted as guides, you understand, and took the people to safety, because they knew how to use their eyes, and the others didn't."
Too-Too yawned and blinked up sleepily at the lantern hanging above his head.
"Seeing in the dark," he ended, "is all a matter of practice—same as the piano or anything else."
[CHAPTER VIII]
THE PUSHMI-PULLYU'S STORY
And now it came, at last, to the pushmi-pullyu's turn for a story. He was very shy and modest and when the animals asked him the following night he said in his very well-bred manner:
"I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid I don't know any stories—at least none good enough to entertain you with."
"Oh, come on, Push," said Jip. "Don't be so bashful. We've all told one. You don't mean to say you've lived all your life in the African jungle without seeing any adventures? There must be lots of yarns you could tell us."
"But I've mostly led such a quiet life, you see," said the pushmi-pullyu. "Our people have always kept very much to themselves. We mind our own business and don't like getting mixed up in scandals and rows and adventures."
"Oh, but just think a minute," said Dab-Dab. "Something will come to you.... Don't pester him," she whispered to the others. "Just leave him alone and let him think—he's got two heads to think with, you know. Something will come to him. But don't get him embarrassed, whatever you do."