She crept completely into his arms, shielding herself with his sleeves.
“Here.” He pointed at her with an index-finger.
“Here!” She gave a little scream. “On my face!”
She was a small bundle of pricked nerves, frightened at a shadow of her own making. Komazawa relented, and pressed her little, fluttering face against his own.
“There—foolish one! No; there is nothing on your face. You are the gnat I meant.”
“Me!” She drew back a pace. “But I am not an insect!”
“Little bit like one,” said Koma, a smile of sunshine replacing his affected gravity a moment since.
His small companion sat up stiffly, half indignant, half curious.
“Gnat jumps—this way, that, every way. So you do so. Can’t sit still, listen to beautiful stories.”
“I don’t like those kind stories. Like better stories about ghosts and—”
“Oh, you always get afraid of such stories, screaming like sea-gull.”
“Yes, but all same, I like to do that—like to hear such stories—like also get frightened and scream.”
“Gnat also bites—bites foot, same as you do.”
“That don’t hurt,” she said, her eyes askance. Then, repeating her words, questioningly, “That don’t hurt?”
“Oh yes, it does, certainly. What do you suppose I got to keep my feet under me now for?”
Her eyes were beginning to fill. He thrust his two feet out quickly.
“Oh, I love you, my Koma,” she said. “I only pretend hurt your honorable foots.”
“That’s right. Now, you fix your hands so.” He illustrated, doubling his own hands into fists, then doubling hers also.
“That’s right. Make hand good and hard. So! Now you hit hard against those feet. So!”
He brought her little, closed fist down hard with his own hand on his offending foot. The little girl became pale. Her lips quivered. She began to sob.
Koma lifted her in his arms, jumped her on his shoulder, and carried her down to the beach, soothing her as he walked.
“That’s just little punishment for me; punishment for teasing little sister,” said Koma, laughing quietly. “That don’t hurt. You going to laugh soon? You just little gnat! That’s so? You bite just little bit. I am big dog. I bite big.”
“Such a foolish little gnat,” he said, “always cry—always laugh. Like these waters—sometimes jump—sometimes lie still.”
Standing in the boat he pushed it out into the bay with the large pole which served as a sort of paddling oar.