Part 11 (1/2)

Here the Goat, who apparently had been carefully thinking the matter over, said in a low, quavering voice, ”Must all the halves be of the same size?”

”Certainly not,” said Robinson, promptly; then, nudging Davy with his elbow, he whispered, ”He's bringing his mind to bear on it. He's prodigious when he gets started!”

”Who taught him arithmetic?” said Davy, who was beginning to think Robinson didn't know much about it himself.

”Well, the fact is,” said Robinson, confidentially, ”he picked it up from an old Adder, that he met in the woods.”

Here the Goat, who evidently was not yet quite started, inquired, ”Must all the halves be of the same shape?”

”Not at all,” said Robinson, cheerfully. ”Have 'em any shape you like.”

”Then I give it up,” said the Goat.

”So do I,” said the Dog.

”And I,” said the Cat.

”Me, too,” said the Parrot.

”Well!” exclaimed Davy, quite out of patience. ”You are certainly the stupidest lot of creatures I ever saw.”

At this the animals stared mournfully at him for a moment, and then rose up and walked gravely away.

”Now you've spoiled the exercises,” said Robinson, peevishly. ”I'm sorry I gave 'em such a staggerer to begin with.”

”Pooh!” said Davy, contemptuously. ”If they couldn't do that sum they couldn't do anything.”

Robinson gazed at him admiringly for a moment, and then, looking cautiously about him, to make sure that the procession was out of hearing, said coaxingly:--

”What's the right answer? Tell us, like a good fellow.”

”Two, of course,” said Davy.

”Is that all?” exclaimed Robinson, in a tone of great astonishment.

”Certainly,” said Davy, who began to feel very proud of his learning.

”Don't you know that when they divide a whole into four parts they call them fourths, and when they divide it into two parts they call them halves?”

”Why don't they call them tooths?” said Robinson, obstinately. ”The fact is, they ought to call 'em teeth. That's what puzzled the Goat. Next time I'll say, 'How many teeth in a whole?'”

”Then the Cat will ask if it's a rat-hole,” said Davy, laughing at the idea.

”You positively convulse me, you're so very humorous,” said Robinson, without a vestige of a smile. ”You're almost as droll as Friday was. He used to call the Goat 'Pat,' because he said he was a little b.u.t.ter. I told him that was altogether too funny for a lonely place like this, and he went away and joined the minstrels.”

Here Robinson suddenly turned pale, and, hastily reaching out for his gun, sprang to his feet.

Davy looked out to sea, and saw that the clock, with the Goblin standing in the stern, had come in sight again, and was heading directly for the sh.o.r.e with tremendous speed. The poor Goblin, who had turned sea-green in color, was frantically waving his hands to and fro, as if motioning for the beach to get out of the way; and Davy watched his approach with the greatest anxiety. Meanwhile the animals had mounted on four sand-hills, and were solemnly looking on, while Robinson, who seemed to have run out of tooth-powder, was hurriedly loading his gun with sand.

The next moment the clock struck the beach with great force, and, turning completely over on the sand, buried the Goblin beneath it.