" She rubbed her scarf across her forehead. "Whew! It seems
hotter here than it does at home."
"This outing was all your idea," Val reminded her. "And we'd better be
getting back before Rupert calls out the Marines or the State Troopers
or something to track us down."
Ricky pouted. "Not going until I'm ready. And you can't drag me if I dig
my heels in."
"I have no desire to be embroiled in such an undignified struggle as you
suggest," he told her loftily. "But neither do I yearn to spend the day
here. I'm hungry. I wonder if our absent host possesses a larder?"
"If he does, you can't raid it," Ricky answered. "The door's locked, and
that lock," she pointed to the bright disk of brass on the solid cabin
door, "is a good one. I've already tried a hairpin on it," she added
shamelessly.
They sat awhile in silence. A wandering breeze had found its way into
the clearing, and with it came the fragrance of flowers blossoming under
the sun. The chicken family were pursuing a worm with more energy than
Val decided he would have cared to expend in that heat, and a heavily
laden bee rested on the lip of a sunflower to brush its legs. Val's
eyelids drooped and he found himself thinking dreamily of a hammock
under the trees, a pillow, and long hours of lazy dozing. At the same
time a corner of his brain was sending forth nagging messages that they
should be up and off, back to their own proper world.
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