“All right, let’s go home,” agreed Skeeter. “We will strike them at supper, I feel sure.”
They retraced their steps, stopping occasionally to argue about the trail. There seemed to be a great many more bypaths going up the mountain than they had noticed going down.
“This is right. I know, because here is the fox grape vine we stripped on the way down,” cried Lucy, when there was more doubt than usual about whether or not they were on the right road.
“Well, more have grown mighty fast,” declared Skeeter. “Look, this is still full.”
“But we couldn’t reach the high ones and decided like Brer Fox that they were sour.”
“Brer Fox, indeed! That wasn’t Brer Fox but the one in Aesop,” laughed Lil.
“Well, he acted just like Brer Fox would have acted, anyhow, and I bet Aesop got him from Uncle Remus. But see, Lil! This isn’t the same vine. We never could have skipped all these grapes. Only look what beauts!”
“We might just as well pick ’em,” said Skeeter, suiting the action to the word. “They might come in handy later on for eats if we can’t find our way home.”
“Not find our way home!” scoffed Frank. “Why, home is just over the mountain. All we have to do is keep straight up and go down on the other side. These paths have mixed us up but the mountain is the same old cove. He can’t mix us up.”