“Five and five are ten,” answered Dorothy promptly.
“Wrong,” said the teacher; “next.”
But before the crocodile could answer, Dorothy said in great excitement:
“If you please, Miss Crocodile, five and five are ten, because five and five couldn’t be anything else, you know.”
Then all the crocodiles giggled and the teacher looked very cross. But Dorothy stood very straight and said:
“Just look at my fingers,” holding up her dear little hands. “I have five fingers on this hand, and five on the other, and now I’ll count them.” She did it very nicely, and then said: “Now, don’t you see that five and five are ten?”
“But, little girl,” replied the crocodile teacher in a very solemn voice, “perhaps to boys and girls, five and five make ten, but to crocodiles five and five make——”
“Trouble,” shouted the crocodile with the dunce-cap on, who had been watching something else all the time.
At this word the whole school darted into the river, and not a trace of them could be seen. Dorothy looked around to see if she could find the cause of their hasty flight, and she beheld five little brown men, with long spears, dancing in the moonlight. Behind them came five others, and they all danced up to the edge of the river, waving their spears over their heads. Suddenly they stopped, and looking into the water gave a deep grunt saying: