is the Gate you meant!" she called to the Policeman.

The Gate was flung invitingly wide Thomas rushed toward it, his fourteen
ears flopping horribly.

"And here _he_ is!" cried the Policeman. "On guard."

The next moment--"'Alt!" ordered a harsh voice--a voice with an English
accent.

There was a flash of scarlet before Gwendolyn's face--of scarlet so
vivid that it blinded. She flung up a hand. But she was not frightened.
She knew what it was. And rubbed at her eyes hastily to clear them.

He stood in full view.

As far as outward appearance was concerned, he was exactly the looking
person she had pictured in her own mind--young and tall and lusty, with
a florid countenance and hair as blonde as her own. And he wore the
uniform of an English soldier--short coat of scarlet, all gold braid and
brass buttons; dark trousers with stripes; and a little round cap with a
chin strap.

But he carried no cane. Instead, as he stepped forward, nose up, chin
up, eyes very bold, he swung a most amazing weapon. It was as scarlet as
his own coat, as long as he was tall, and polished to a high degree. But
it was not unbending, like a sword: It was limber to whippiness, so that
as he twirled it about his blonde head it snapped and whistled. And
Gwendolyn remembered having seen others exactly like it hanging on the
bill-board at the Face-Shop. For it was a tongue!

"Aw! Mah word!" exclaimed the King's English, surveying the halted
group.

Gwendolyn could not imagine what word he had in mind, but she thought
him very fine. With his air of proud self-assurance, and his fine
brilliant uniform, he was strikingly like her own red-coated toy!
Anxious to make a favorable impression upon him, she smoothed the
gingham dress hastily, brushed back straying wisps of yellow,
straightened her shoulders, and assumed a cordial expression of
countenance.

"How do you do," she said, curtseying.

He saluted. But blocked the way.

"May we go into the Zoo, please?"

His hand jerked down to his side. "One at a time," he answered; "--all
but Thomas."

Thomas had come short with the others. Now as Gwendolyn looked at him
she saw that he, also, was armed with a tongue--a warped and twisted
affair, rough, but thin along its edges.

"If you try to keep me out," he cried, "I certainly _will_ murder you!"

At this juncture the Policeman pit-patted forward and took his station
at the left of the Gate. Next, the King's English stepped back until he