"What is it?" she asked.
"Let's get into the house before we talk," replied Anthony, and they withdrew quickly and were about to bolt the door once more.
At that moment, Alice looked around and screamed. "Small!"
Anthony opened the door again, to find that Small had slipped out and was poking with interest in his mind and a stick in his hand at the body-half of the shattered animal. Anthony grabbed him and carried him in. When they had bolted the door again, Alice fell into a chair. "That child gives me heart-failure a dozen times a day."
"That's what kids are for," said Anthony. "About that thing I killed—I've heard of them, but I've never seen one before. I hope they don't turn out to be common around here."
"If one finally found its way to us, others will, sooner or later."
"I'm afraid so," he sighed. "They're known as 'snaffles'—flying snakes. It may make you feel better to learn that they're not poisonous."
"It doesn't make me feel better in the least. They're horrible anyway."
"Well, how about getting a dog?"
"Send away for one—at once. Any kind, so long as it will kill these terrible things."