wandered out alone—oh, hurry, look for him! Something might get him! He may have fallen in the water! Oh, hurry!”
They were off in a moment, shouting into the dark passages of the outer cave: “Willie! Willie!” There was agonized anxiety in their voices.
And then in a moment, as it seemed, they were back again, with Willie in their arms, blubbering, his rabbit-skin all wet.
“Goodness gracious!” said the Cave-woman. “He’d fallen right in, the poor little man. Hurry, dear, and get something dry to wrap him in! Goodness, what a fright! Quick, darling, give me something to rub him with.”
Anxiously the Cave-parents moved about beside the child, all quarrel vanished.
“But surely,” I said, as they calmed down a little, “just there where Willie fell in, beside the passage that I came through, there is only three inches of water.”
“So there is,” they said, both together, “but just suppose it had been three feet!”
Later on, when Willie was restored, they both renewed their invitation to me to stay to dinner.
“Didn’t you say,” said the Cave-man,
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