s and
shadows. Then shall the Oomgar fight like an Oomgar, one against a
hundred, and Nod can go free!"

Immanala rose bristling against the clearness of the moon.

"Tell me, Prince of Tishnar, what is this story you seem to be
whispering about my hunting-dogs?"

And Nod, with his Wonderstone clipped tight in his hot palm, bethought
him of all Mishcha's counsel, and promised Immanala he would come down
the next night following. And if she would call her packs into the
ravine, he would lead them, and open the door of the hut and lure out
the Oomgar. "Then you, O fearless Queen of Shadows, shall watch the hunt
in peace," he said. "One forsaken Oomgar without his gun against
nine-and-ninety Jack-Alls and Jaccatrays, and perhaps a Roses or two,
famished and parched with cold. Ay, but before I whistle them up," he
muttered, as if to himself, "I must steal the Oomgar's M'Keesso's coat,
which is drenched through with magic."

Immanala peered gloatingly from her rock. "The little Mulla-mulgar has a
cunning face," she said, "and a heart of many devices. I have heard of
his comings and goings in Munza-mulgar. But if he deal falsely with me,
though Tishnar came herself in all her brightness, I would wait and
wait. Not an Utt nor a Nikka-nikka but should be his enemy, and as for
those magicless Mulla-mulgars his brothers, who even now squat sullen
and hungry in their leafy houses, they shall lie cold as stones before
the morning light."

"Why," said Nod softly, "he must be frightened who begins to threaten. I
have no fear of you, O Nameless, who are but a creeping candle-fly at
twilight to the blaze of Tishnar's moon. Come hither to-morrow with your
half-starved hunting-dogs, and I'll show you good hunting, will I."

Without another word, with every hair on end, he ran swiftly back to the
hut by the way he had come. But even now his night's doings were not
ended, for in a while, by which time the Immanala should have returned
from her watching-rock into the shadows of the forest, he ran out again,
and, crouching beneath the old Exxswixxia-bush under the Sulemn[=a]gar,
he called softly: "Mishcha, old hare! Mishcha!"

When he had called her many times, she came slowly and warily limping
across the chequered snow. And Nod told her of all he had done that
night, and of how he had met and abashed the Nameless face to face. The
old hare watched dimly his flashing eyes and the vainglory of the face
of the young Mulgar Prince boast