Both girls plunged under the curtain. Once outside and at a safe distance from the marquee, Shane and Dale stopped and waited. Yes, the moon is high tonight! (Here, Shane howled towards the night sky). – You boys just wait ’till we catch you,, went Lillian. And then you’ll be howling for good, believe me. The night was clear, and lighted by the multicoloured bulbs that lined the marquee’s angles. So the girls clearly saw Shane’s answer: his left hand landed on the base of his right arm and his right forearm shot upwards. Both boys turned heels and bolted off. And that’s when all went wrong. Dale tripped on one of the marquee’s guyropes and fell down. Shane came back to help him up. And suddenly hands were catching their collars. Shane’s right foot collided with Lillian’s left shin. She let out a yell, but didn’t let him go. Instead, she gave him a slap that sent stinging hornets in his right cheek. Dale tried a jab but only punched into thin air. He then bit hard into Peggy’s wrist, who also yelled… but didn’t let him go. Instead she caught his right ear and twisted, pulling his head (and his sharp kitten’s teeth) away from her wrist.
Shane, Dale & The Rufty Tufty Club4
