“The deuce!” I exclaimed. “I thought the critter was your pet—the one thing on earth—”
“My pet! Oh, the horrible, crawling thing!” She shuddered at the memory, to my great, but secret delight. “I hated the nasty thing—I loathed it!” she expostulated fervently. “I hope I’ll never see another snake again!”
This was a huge surprise. “Gee whizz!” said I.
“Gee wizz!” echoed Fatty, and he ducked his head back with a snap.
“But—er—why, then,” I resumed, “why did you lug it around?”
“I took it as my only protection,” she replied with dignity. “I had to be protected from the outrageous brutes!”
“That’s so,” I admitted, abashed. “I might have thought of that. Of course—just as plain as day.... You’re right—I’m a donkey.... Yes.... But—but why have you thrown him away, now?”
“Because,” she murmured, looking at me timidly, while she blushed again, “because I don’t need him—any more.”
“Well—bless my soul!” said I, and that was all.
Sending the boat along steadily, for the sun had set and darkness would soon be coming, I thought of many things. My gaze rested on Fatty, who was now beginning to look about him a trifle more boldly. What should I do with the old fellow, provided we all got safely out of the country and once more mingled with men? How astonished he would be at the sights of steamers, railroad trains, cities, and the hurrying crowds of people! I could fancy his comical face, as he looked in my eyes, like a bewildered dog. Would it ever be possible to put him in clothes and have him about me? I knew he could learn many useful things, and even much of my speech, but whether a Missing Link could really be kept, as a servant, or friend, was a question requiring no little amount of thought. Of one thing I was certain, I would never under any circumstances permit him to become a freak, nor even an object of people’s idle curiosity. Poor old, faithful Fatty.