But then came the best of all:
“Any distinctive marks: Has six toes on each foot.”
Olsen threw back his head, and set his lips sternly. Yes, he had six toes; it was perfectly true. And why shouldn’t he? What, didn’t believe it? Well, then, look here!
Off came Olsen’s socks, and Sivert, in humble amazement, counted the whole dozen. True, the outermost toe was no giant, but rather a tiny blind thing that clung to the next. There was no nail to it, yet it was undoubtedly a toe. A whole limb additional!
Sivert counted his own inferior equipment again and again by night, and in course of time developed a fine gift of counting them wrong.
“Why don’t they write down about your inside?” he ventured to ask.
“They can’t. That’s private,” answered Olsen.