Late, almost at the end of it, a second crop of the stringy-rooted carrots sprang up.

These unexpected second-crop roots were young and juicy and tender, and for some time the carrot-patch was the favorite feeding-place of the horde.

One morning, early, several score of us were there making our breakfast.

On one side of me was the Hairless One.

Beyond him were his father and son, old Marrow-Bone and Long-Lip.