“It must be the spirits of the water and the trees, mocking us,” said Firetop. “It sounded just like us.”
You see, they did not know what an echo was.
“I’m scared,” said Firefly.
“I am too, a little,” Firetop admitted.
“Let’s not call any more. If we keep still, maybe the spirits won’t find us,” whispered Firefly.
They snuggled down in the wolf-skins and kept very still. By and by they heard a crashing sound in the underbrush not far away. They were stiff with fright. They didn’t dare even to breathe. Then came a loud cry, “Hoo, hoo, hooooooo,” and the crashing noise came nearer. It came right under their tree. Then somebody’s voice called, “Are you awake, little red foxes, up in the tree?”
Two red heads instantly popped over the edge of the tree beds, and two voices cried out something that meant, “Oh, we’re so glad that you’ve come back.”
Limberleg climbed the tree and untied the children. It took them about two seconds to get to the ground, and they didn’t fall down either. There under the tree they found Hawk-Eye. He was preparing breakfast. He and Limberleg had gone down to the river-bank very early and had found a whole colony of turtles. They had brought home four turtle-eggs apiece. If I were an arithmetic, I should ask how many eggs there were! It would have been of no use to ask the Twins. Neither they nor their father and mother could have told you. They hadn’t any of them learned to count that far. Nobody could in those days.
They made short work of the eggs, even if they couldn’t add or multiply or divide. When they had finished eating them, they strapped their skins on their shoulders once more and started up the river. All the morning they tramped steadily along, looking for a good place to ford it. The sun was already in the west, when suddenly Limberleg stopped at a turn in the bluff.