And Gipsy could not open his mouth without relinquishing
his fishbone.
Therefore, on small accounts he decided to leave the field to his
enemies and to carry the fishbone elsewhere. He took two giant
leaps. The first landed him upon the edge of the porch. There,
without an instant's pause, he gathered his fur-sheathed muscles,
concentrated himself into one big steel spring, and launched
himself superbly into space. He made a stirring picture, however
brief, as he left the solid porch behind him and sailed upward on
an ascending curve into the sunlit air. His head was proudly up;
he was the incarnation of menacing power and of self-confidence.
It is possible that the whitefish's spinal column and flopping
tail had interfered with his vision, and in launching himself he
may have mistaken the dark, round opening of the cistern for its
dark, round cover. In that case, it was a leap calculated and
executed with precision, for as the boys clamoured their pleased
astonishment, Gipsy descended accurately into the orifice and
passed majestically from public view, with the fishbone still in
his mouth and his haughty head still high.
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