“Are we playin’ bein’ animalth?” she piped at last.
“Shut up!” hissed William.
Violet Elizabeth shut up—except to whisper to Ginger who was just in front, “I’m a thnail—what you?” Ginger did not deign to reply.
At a sign from their leader that all danger was over the Outlaws stood upright. William had stopped.
“We’ve thrown ’em off the scent,” he said scowling, “but danger s’rounds us on every side. We’d better plunge into the jungle an’ I bet she’ll soon’ve had enough of plungin’ into the jungle.”
They left the path and “plunged” into the dense, shoulder-high undergrowth. At the end of the line “plunged” Violet Elizabeth. She fought her way determinedly through the bushes. She left remnants of her filmy skirts on nearly every bush. Long spidery arms of brambles caught at her hair again and pulled out her curls. But Violet Elizabeth liked it. “Ithn’t it fun?” she piped as she followed.
Under a large tree William stopped.
“Now we’ll be Red Indians,” he said, “an’ go huntin’. I’ll be Brave Heart same as usual and Ginger be Hawk Face and Douglas be Lightning Eye.”
“An’ what thall I be?” said the torn and stained and wild-headed apparition that had been Violet Elizabeth.
Douglas took the matter in hand.