I don't know how long I might have dreamed on in this way if Bruno
hadn't suddenly roused me.

"Oh, come here quick!" he cried, in a state of the wildest excitement.
"Catch hold of his other horn! I can't hold him more than a minute!"

He was struggling desperately with a great snail, clinging to one of
its horns, and nearly breaking his poor little back in his efforts to
drag it over a blade of grass.

I saw we should have no more gardening if I let this sort of thing go
on, so I quietly took the snail away, and put it on a bank where he
couldn't reach it. "We'll hunt it afterward, Bruno," I said, "if you
really want to catch it. But what's the use of it when you've got it?"

"What's the use of a fox when you've got it?" said Bruno. "I know you
big things hunt foxes."

I tried to think of some good reason why "big things" should hunt
foxes, and he shouldn't hunt snails, but none came into my head: so I
said at last, "Well, I suppose one's as good as the other. I'll go
snail-hunting myself, some day."

"I should think you wouldn't be so silly," said Bruno, "as to go
snail-hunting all by yourself. Why, you'd never get the snail along, if
you hadn't somebody to hold on to his other horn!"

"Of course I sha'n't go alone," I said, quite gravely. "By the way, is
that the best kind to hunt, or do you recommend the ones without
shells?"