"He's on the boat," he said, in a horrified whisper.
"Where-where--where? what--what--what?" Judy cried, unintentionally
mimicking a long-buried monarch.
"In the cabin, looking as glum as a boiled wallaby, and hanging
on to the poor little General as if he thinks he'll fly away."
Judy looked a little frightened for the first time. "Can't we
hide? Don't let him see us. It wouldn't be any good offering to
take the General now. We're in for it now, Pip--there'll be no
quarter."
Pip groaned; then Judy stood up.
"Let's creep down as far as the engine," she said, "and see if he
does look very bad."
They made their way cautiously along the deck, and took up a
position where they could see without being seen. The dear
little General was sitting on the seat next to his stern father,
who had a firm hold of the back of his woolly-pelisse. He was
sucking his little dirty hand, and casting occasional longing
glances at his tan shoe, which he knew was delicious to bite.
Once or twice he had pulled it off and conveyed it to his mouth,
but his father intercepted it, and angrily buttoned it on again
in its rightful place. He wanted, too, to slither off the horrid
seat, and crawl all over the deck, and explore the ground under
the seats, and see where the puffing noise came from; but there
was that iron grasp on his coat that no amount of wriggling would
move.
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