ned, shivering, in
part for the cold, and in part for dread of what she was saying. "There
be three things, Nizza-neela," she said, when she had told him all her
stratagem--"there be three things even a Mulla-mulgar must have who
fights with Immanala, Queen of Shadows: he must have Magic, he must have
cunning, and he must have courage. Oh, little Prince of Tishnar, should
I have physicked you and saved you from the sooty spits of the Minimuls
if you had been neither wise nor brave?"

And Nod promised by his Wonderstone to do all that she had bidden him.
And she crept soundlessly back into the gloom of the forest. Nod
himself quickly hobbled home, took up his sliding-shoes again, and
returned to the little hut and the Oomgar's red fire.

Battle sat there, stooping in the light of the rising moon and the ruddy
glow over his little book. But he held it for memory's sake rather than
to read in it. His head was jerking in sleep when Nod sat himself down
by the fire, and the little Mulgar could think quietly of all that the
old hare had told him. He half shut his eyes, watching his slow, curious
Mulgar thoughts creep in and out. And while he sat there, lonely and
wretched, struggling between love for his brothers and for the Oomgar,
he heard a small clear voice within him speaking that said: "Courage,
Prince Ummanodda! Tishnar is faithful to the faithful. Who is this
Nameless to set snares against her chosen? Fear not, Nizza-neela; all
will be well!" Thus it seemed to Nod the inward voice was saying to him,
and he took comfort. He would tell the poor sailor, perhaps, part of
what he feared and knew, and with Tishnar to help him would seek out
this Immanala and meet her face to face.

Night rode in starry darkness above the great black forest. The logs
burned low. Close before his fire sat Battle, his chin on his breast,
his yellow-haired head rolling from side to side in his sleep. Thin
clear flames, blue and sulphur, floated along the logs, and lit up his
fast-shut eyes. Nod sat with his little chops in his hairy hands
watching the sailor. Sometimes a solitary beast roared, or a night-bird
squalled out of the gloom. At last the little book fell out of Battle's
sleep-loosened fingers. He started, raised his head, and stared into the
darkness, listening to howl answering to howl, shrill cry to distant
cry. He yawned, showing all his small white teeth.

"Your friends are uncommon fidgety to-night, Nod Mulgar," he said.

No