Following this for some distance,
along a winding way, they came upon no house or building
that would afford them refuge for the night. It became so
dark that they could scarcely see their way, and finally
Trot stopped and suggested that they camp under a tree.
"All right," said Button-Bright, "I've often found that
leaves make a good warm blanket. But -- look there, Trot!
-- isn't that a light flashing over yonder?"
"It certainly is, Button-Bright. Let's go over and see
if it's a house. Whoever lives there couldn't treat us
worse than the King did."
To reach the light they had to leave the road, so they
stumbled over hillocks and brushwood, hand in hand,
keeping the tiny speck of light always in sight.
They were rather forlorn little waifs, outcasts in a
strange country and forsaken by their only friend and
guardian, Cap'n Bill. So they were very glad when finally
they reached a small cottage and, looking in through its
one window, saw Pon, the gardener's boy, sitting by a
fire of twigs.
As Trot opened the door and walked boldly in, Pon
sprang up to greet them.
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