As I rose to my feet and took a few steps toward the water, intending to assure them that I could not leap across the stream, it became their turn to laugh.
And laugh they did too, with such spirit, such heartiness—I might almost say such violence—that I never realized till then that they laugh best who laugh last.
Again and again their piping, pygmy voices broke out in shrill chorus while their pretty doll faces were convulsed with merriment.
Bulger repeatedly showed his teeth, and gave vent to short, spiteful barks as the Umi-Lobas continued their, to him, unseemly behavior. But I knew it would only injure us in the end, if I showed any signs of anger, so I simply shrugged my shoulders and waited for them to recover from their fit of merriment. Finally, between the pauses of laughter I caught such words as:
“Pendulum-legs!”
“Man-scissors!”
“Man Tongs!”
“Flip-flop! Wiggle-waggle!”
“Here she goes, there she goes!”
Such were a few of the terms expressive of the impression which my poor unoffending legs made upon the minds of the Umi-Lobas.