The
three riflemen in the background, standing like images with their
weapons raised, looked like a well-trained chorus in an opera.
And indeed it was all extraordinarily like something on a stage.
Slinker, for instance. He had a prowling, sidelong fashion of
moving about, and enormous yellow mustaches like a Viking. Surely
some artist in the make-up line had invented Slinker! And the
burly fellow in the background, with the black whiskers--too bad
he'd forgotten his earrings---
But I awoke to the horrid reality of it all as Captain Magnus,
smiling his wolfish smile, turned and approached me.
"Well, boys," he remarked to his followers, who had now lowered
their weapons and were standing about at ease, "here's the little
pippin I was tellin' of. 'Fraid we give her a little scare bustin'
in so sudden, so she ain't quite so bright and smilin' as I like to
see. Its all right, girlie; you'll soon cheer up when you find out
you're go'in' to be the little queen o' this camp. Things will be
all your way now--so long as you treat me right." And the
abominable creature thrust forth a hairy paw and deliberately
chucked me under the chin.
I heard a roar from the log--and coincidently from Captain Magnus.
For with the instant response of an automaton--consciously I had
nothing at all to do with it--I had reached up and briskly boxed
the captain's ears.
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