the
Champs Elysees, so frightened was I of being drowned by the Chouette. I
would have run to the end of the world, rather than be again in the
Chouette's hands. After walking and walking, I fairly lost myself; I had
not begged a farthing, and the more I thought the more frightened did I
become. At night I hid myself in a timber-yard, under some piles of
wood. As I was very little, I was able to creep under an old door and
hide myself amongst a heap of logs. I was so hungry that I tried to gnaw
a piece of the bark, but I could not bite it,--it was too hard. At
length I fell asleep. In the morning, hearing a noise, I hid myself
still further back in the wood-pile. It was tolerably warm, and, if I
had had something to eat, I could not have been better off for the
winter."

"Like me in the lime-kiln."

"I did not dare to quit the timber-yard, for I fancied that the Chouette
would seek for me everywhere, to pull out my teeth and drown me, and
that she would be sure to catch me if I stirred from where I was."

"Stay, do not mention that old beast's name again,--it makes the blood
come into my eyes! The fact is, that you have known misery,--bitter,
bitter misery. Poor little mite! how sorry I am that I threatened to
beat you just now, and frightened you. As I am a man, I did not mean to
do it."

"Why, would you not have beaten me? I have no one to defend me."

"That's the very reason, because you are not like the others,--because
you have no one to take your part,--that I would not have beaten you.
When I say no one, I do not mean our comrade Rodolph; but his coming was
a chance, and he certainly did give me my full allowance when we met."

"Go on, my child," said Rodolph. "How did you get away from the
timber-yard?"

"Next day, about noon, I heard a great dog barking under the wood-pile.
I listened, and the bark came nearer and nearer; then a deep voice
exclaimed, 'My dog barks,--somebody is hid in the yard!' 'They are
thieves,' said another voice; and the men then began to encourage the
dog, and cry, 'Find 'em! find 'em, lad!' The dog ran to me, and, for
fear of being bitten, I began to cry out with all my might and main.
'Hark!' said one of them; 'I hear the cry of a child.' They called back
the dog; I came out from the pile of wood, and saw a gentleman and a man
in a blouse. 'Ah, you little thief! what are you doing in my
timber-yard?' said the gentleman, in a cross tone. I put my hands
together and said, 'Don't