“We won’t; we won’t follow you if you’ll just tell us how to get home.”
“No, I won’t tell you. I’m going back to the farmyard. It must be feeding time now. And don’t you dare to come too. If you do I’ll peck you.”
The chicken was angry because the ducklings had seen him frightened, and because they had found out he was not a friend of the dog after all.
“Oh, what shall we do! We’re lost! We’re lost!” wept the ducklings.
But the chicken paid no attention to them. He gave them one scornful look, and then he stuck his wings in his pockets, and stalked away up the road, leaving them alone.
And now the poor little ducklings were very miserable indeed. They all wept bitter tears. Even Squdge began to cry. “Oh, if we could only get home,” they wept, “we’d never, never run away again, but always be good obedient little ducklings.”
Suddenly Queek, who had dried his eyes for a moment, looked up the river and gave a cry of joy.
“Look! Look!” he shouted.