The pool of tears grew restless.
The Dodo came flapping his wings. ‘QUAACK!’ he bellowed, so loudly the Duck nearly toppled over. "Neither double-deckers nor carriages qualify as followers!" he declared, puffing out his chest with his sudden authority.
The Duck nodded again. Donald always seemed so very clever—though Alice couldn’t tell if he understood the Dodo or was merely fond of the word ‘QUAACK.’
By now, the Mouse’s tale seemed destined hopelessly to run on forever.
But excitement, in this damp and dismal place, never lasted long. A chill soon settled, and everyone was shivering.
“ReBoOt! ReBoOt!” cried the Dodo. “The only cure is a Caucus-race!”
“Does he mean English,” Alice whispered to herself, “or is that another word he's just invented?”
And so, at the Dodo’s command, the wet party began.
The Lory, the Eaglet, the Duck, and several others whose names Alice couldn’t quite recall, ran round and round in a chaotic, patternless loop, desperate to get dry.
“Rule of Nature,” Alice concluded, “creatures dislike getting wet. That was hard-coded long before I was.”
She very nearly applauded herself, feeling she had at last untangled one of Nature’s riddles.
