He did add, however, that it would be as well to dispatch the Vealer over
night, and that an early move (about fowl-sing-out) would not be amiss;
and, always obedient to Cheon's will, we all turned in, in good time, and
becoming drowsy, dreamed of "watching" great mobs of Vealers, with each
Vealer endowed with a plum-pudding for a head.
CHAPTER XXIII
At earliest dawn we were awakened by wild, despairing shrieks, and were
instinctively groping for our revolvers when we remembered the fatted
fowls and Cheon's lonely vigil, and turning out, dressed hastily,
realising that Christmas had come, and the pullets had sung their last
"sing-out."
When we appeared the stars were still dimly shining, but Cheon's face was
as luminous as a full moon, as, greeting each and all of us with a "Melly
Clisymus," he suggested a task for each and all. Some could see about
taking the Vealer down from the gallows; six lubras were "rounded up" for
the plucking of the pullets, while the rest of us were sent out, through
wet grass and thicket, into the cold, grey dawn, to gather in "big, big
mob bough and mistletoe," for the beautifying of all things.
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