They knew they were being followed by bands of the
Blueskins, for they could hear the shouts of their pursuers growing
louder and louder every minute, since their long legs covered the
ground more quickly than our friends could possibly go. Had the
journey been much farther, the fugitives would have been overtaken,
but when the leaders of the pursuing Blueskins were only a few yards
behind them, they reached the edge of the Fog Bank and without
hesitation plunged into its thick mist, which instantly hid them
from view.
The Blueskins fell back, horrified at the mad act of the strangers.
To them the Fog Bank was the most dreadful thing in existence, and
no Blueskin had ever ventured within it even for a moment.
"That's the end of those short-necked Yellowskins," said one,
shaking his head. "We may as well go back and report the matter to
the Boolooroo."
THROUGH THE FOG BANK
CHAPTER 12
It was rather moist in the Fog Bank. "Seems like a reg'lar drizzle,"
said Trot. "I'll be soaked through in a minute." She had been given
a costume of blue silk in exchange for her own dress, and the silk
was so thin that the moisture easily wetted it.
"Never mind," said Cap'n Bill. "When it's a case of life 'n' death,
clo's don't count for much. I'm sort o' drippy myself."
Cried the parrot, fluttering his feathers to try to keep them from
sticking together,
"Floods and gushes fill our path--
This is not my day for a bath!
Shut if off, or fear my wrath.
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