s he?..."

And groping his way with his stick, he moved towards Tyltyl, growling
as he went.

Our poor little friend had been very much afraid during the last few
minutes. The Cat had left him suddenly, saying that she wanted to
smooth down the excitement, and had not come back. Mytyl nestled
trembling against him; and he felt very lonely, very unhappy among
those dreadful people whose anger he was beginning to notice. When he
saw the Oak marching on him with a threatening air, he drew his
pocket-knife and defied him like a man:

"Is it I he's after, that old one, with his big stick?" he cried.

But, at the sight of the knife, Man's irresistible weapon, all the
Trees shook with fright and rushed at the Oak to hold him back. There
was a struggle; and the old King, conquered by the weight of years,
threw away his stick:

"Shame on us!" he shouted. "Shame on us! Let the Animals deliver
us!..."

The Animals were only waiting for this! All wanted to be revenged
together. Fortunately, their very eagerness caused a scrimmage which
delayed the murder of the dear little ones.

Mytyl uttered piercing screams.

"Don't be afraid," said Tyltyl, doing his best to protect her. "I have
my knife."

"The little chap means to die game!" said the Cock.

"That's the one I shall eat first," said the Pig, eyeing Mytyl
greedily.

"What have I done to all of you?" asked Tyltyl.

"Nothing at all, my little man," said the Sheep. "Eaten my little
brother, my two sisters, my three uncles, my aunt, my grandpapa and my
grandmamma.... Wait, wait, when you're down, you shall see that I have
teeth also...."

And so the Sheep and the Horse, who were the greatest cowards, waited
for the little fellow to be knocked down before they dared take their
share in the spoil.

While they were talking, the Wolf and the Bear treacherously attacked
Tyltyl from behind and pushed him over. It was an awful moment. All
the Animals, seeing him on the ground, tried to get at him. The boy
raised himself to one knee and brandished his knife. Mytyl uttered
yells of distress; and, to crown all, it suddenly became dark.

Tyltyl called wildly for assistance:

"Help! Help!... Tylo! Tylo!... To the rescue!... Where is Tylette?...
Come! Come!..."

The Cat's voice was heard in the distance, where she was craftily
keeping out of sight:

"I can't come!" she whined. "I'm wounded!"

All this time, plucky little Tyltyl was defending himself as best he
could, b