He struggled to get away, but something held him about the feet.
What should he do?
Suddenly a bright thought came to his relief. The Sleepy-heads were now
all standing in a ring around him. He began to tell a story at the top of
his voice:
"My gran'pappy, he fit weth a red Injun. An' the Injun he chopped my
gran'pappy's finger off weth his tomahawk, and----"
But at this point all the little people got intensely excited over
Bobby's gran'pappy's fight, and so, of course, fell asleep and fell
forward into a pile on top of Bobby, who had an awful time getting out
from under the heap. Just as he emerged, the people began to wake up and
to lay hold of his feet, but Bobby screamed out:
"And my gran'pappy, he up weth his hatchet and he split the nasty ole red
Injun's head open----"
They were all fast asleep again.
Bobby now ran off toward the door, not caring to go any further
underground at present, though he knew there were other wonders beyond.
He reached the door at last, but it was closed. There was no key-hole
even.
After looking around a long time he found the Fly-up-the-creek fairy, not
far from the door, sitting by a fire, with a large, old owl sitting over
against him.
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