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In a cage of wire netting bearing the legend, “The Roc—The Egg,” the uncomfortable gander swayed and craned his neck; and all but his voice was satisfactory. In the bottom of the cage a whitewashed stone the size of a small pumpkin did duty as the egg. CHAPTER VII THE FIGHT Several hands waved wildly and a chorus of voices eagerly broke in; through the childish babel could be heard a lisping narrative..
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Conrad
“You can send some one after us, a man—not you, not either of you,” he called back over his shoulder, and was soon out of sight. “Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear. The cheerful clatter of knives and forks against Mrs. Wopp’s best blue willow plates was a gentle accompaniment to the ripple of laughing apology that Nell offered to the victim. Any constraint that might have been felt hitherto among the circle, decreased perceptibly as the rancher wiped the sweet syrupy drops from his face. “Oh, she’ll eat when she gets hungry, never fear.”.
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