'Laura
will never sleep here another night if she sees them.'
'Nobody insured Laura against gophers,' said Polly. 'She must take
the fortunes of war.'
'I wouldn't wake her,' said Margery. 'She didn't sleep well, and her
face is flushed. Come, or we shall be late for breakfast.'
When they returned, fresh and rosy, from their bath, there was a stir
of life in all the tents. Pancho had come from the stage-station
with mail; an odour of breakfast issued from the kitchen, where Hop
Yet was humming a fragment of Chinese song, that ran something like
this,--not loud, but unearthly enough, as Bell used to say, to spoil
almost any cooking:-
[Music follows]
Fong fong mongmong tiu he sun yi-u
sow chong how ki-u me yun tan-tar che ku choi song!
Dicky was abroad, radiant in a new suit of clothes, and Elsie pushed
her golden head out between the curtains, and proclaimed herself
strong enough for a wrestling-match with any boy or man about the
camp.
But they found Laura sitting on the edge of her straw bed, directly
over the concealed gopher-holes, a mirror in her hand and an
expression of abject misery on her countenance.
'What's the matter?' cried the girls in one breath. But they needed
no answer, as she turned her face towards the light, for it was
plainly a case of poison-oak--one eye almost closed, and the cheek
scarlet and swollen.
'Where do you suppose you got it?' asked Bell.
'Oh, I don't know. It's everywhere; so I don't see how I ever hoped
to escape it.
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