le companion been
so near; and it was probably this circumstance which gave the mean rat
courage thus to attack me without provocation. From what I have heard of
boys tormenting cats, mice, birds, anything that they can easily master,
while they pay proper respect to bulldogs and mastiffs, I have an idea
that there are some Shabbys to be found even amongst "the lords of
creation."

I was busy at my supper, when, chancing to look towards the fatal hole
in which my six brothers had been caught, I saw Whiskerandos and his
follower merrily advancing towards it, doubtless attracted, as the
former victims had been, by a very enticing scent.

I do not know how man would have behaved in my position. These certainly
were no friends of mine; but then they were rats; they were of the race
of Mus. I could not see them perish without warning them of their
danger.

"Stop! stop!" squeaked I, keeping, however, at a respectful distance;
"you are running right into a trap!"

Whiskerandos turned sharp round and faced me. I retreated back several
steps.

"Bite him,-- fight him,-- shake him by the neck!" cried Shabby; "he
knows there is a dainty feast there, and he would keep it all for his
ugly black rats!" Shabby was a great fighter with words; those of his
character usually are; nor was he in the least particular, when he gave
his bad names, that they were in the least suitable and appropriate, or
he would never have applied the term "ugly" to us.

"You'll pay for your dainty feast if you go one foot farther!"
I exclaimed; feeling, I confess it, very angry.

"Who's afraid!" cried the boaster, flinging up his hind legs with a
saucy flourish as he scampered on. Clap! he was caught in the trap!

Poor rat! had he possessed the courage and skill of Whiskerandos
himself, they would have availed him nothing. His miserable squeaking
was louder than that of all my six brothers put together. He would not
take advice, and he found the consequences. He thought himself wiser
than his neighbours, and only discovered his mistake when it had led him
to destruction. Had he only listened to the counsels of a little black
rat!

Whiskerandos remained for some moments quite still, looking towards the
dismal prison of his companion. He knew too well that it was impossible
to rescue him now. Then, with such bounds as few rats but himself could
make, he sprang to where I was standing.

"Rat!" he exclaimed, "you have saved my life, and I shall never