Presently out came the invaders with their loot--one with a picture,
another with a vase, another bearing the gramophone upside down.
Then I heard somebody--Charlie again, it seemed to me--propose a raid
on the fowl run.
The fowls had had their moments of unrest since they had been our
property, but what they had gone through with us was peace compared
with what befell them then. Not even on that second evening of our
visit, when we had run unmeasured miles in pursuit of them, had there
been such confusion. Roused abruptly from their beauty sleep, they
fled in all directions. The summer evening was made hideous with the
noise of them.
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