Front matter (continued 2)

'You're not a bit of good as infantry,' she said. 'Just fancy a regiment that ought to be stretched out in a thin red—I mean brown—line, piled in a heap on top of the Colonel! No, you are not infantry any more—you're artillery, and will have to stand in rows and throw cocoa-nuts for cannon-balls.'

At this moment Sammy came up, and he was charmed with the idea.

'What ho!' he cried. 'Splendid! Talk of batteries of four-inch field-guns! Just wait till those Black Mountaineers see our batteries of four-inch field-monkeys!'

It was the Rabbit's regiment of scouts that was being drilled next to the Flanagans, but he allowed them all to 'stand at ease' to watch the disgrace of his friend Patsey, and professed to think their new title exceedingly funny.

'Oh, who'd be a four-inch field-monkey?' he squeaked, and he slapped his knees and laughed till the tears ran down his whiskers.

'Well,' said Baby Jane, turning sharply upon him, 'you seem very pleased with yourself, but what can your regiment do?'

The Rabbit dried his tears with his paw. 'Do?' he said shrilly. 'Why, look at this!'

Truly it was magnificent. Squatting still as statues, at the word of command five hundred bunnies cocked their thousand ears in unison. 'Up—down—right—left!'

'And that's nothing,' said the Rabbit calmly; 'they can do the same with their tails!'

'Wonderful!' said Baby Jane. 'And now, as Sammy says that Miss Crocodile's regiment, and the Lion's, and the Bear's have been doing wonderful things, every one has done a good morning's work——'

'Except the four-inch field-monkeys,' interrupted the Rabbit spitefully.

'And drill is over for the day,' went on Baby Jane. 'This afternoon my army shall sit down and keep cool and see a military tournament.'

As to the beginning of this tournament there was a good deal of puzzling and trouble, for the army sent a solemn deputation, headed by Miss Crocodile and Mary Carmichael, to Baby Jane during dinner to pray that proceedings might open with a war-dance.

Now Baby Jane had not the least idea how a war-dance went, and, after a long consultation with Sammy, she had to tell the deputation so.

'Do you know how it goes yourselves?' she asked.

Miss Crocodile said the niggers always did it before they went out collecting missionaries. You jumped up and down and waved sticks and shouted. Here Miss Crocodile made a few shy steps to illustrate her meaning.

'Of course,' said Baby Jane, upon whom a light had dawned. 'An Irish jig! The very thing! I danced it in a play once, and I will show you. Come along. What fun!'

It required but little practice, and, with two pretty hoods for the ladies and a couple of sprigs of blackthorn for the gentlemen, they were presently equipped and ready to dance before the army, which was now spread out in a huge semicircle facing the open desert and the distant Black Mountains. And they might have stepped straight from the fair at Coleraine, for the Lion looked the broth of a boy, and even the Bear threw off his Scottish manner and was for the time a roaring blade; while as for Mary and Miss Crocodile, no saucier colleens ever peeped from beneath a hood.

Baby Jane, flushed and smiling, holding a bit or frock in each hand, led them into the middle.

'Now,' she whispered over her shoulder, 'one—two—three—whistle!'

Then to the romping air of 'St. Patrick's Day in the Morning' five light figures tripped it gaily up and down, every footfall pat to a note. Now, with a bang and a yell, dancing defiance at one another, the boys met in the middle, each with his lady under his lee. Then, shooting roguish glances right and left, Miss Crocodile and Mary, hand-in-hand, would trip between the warlike ones and take the floor. And the army marked time with whoops that must have echoed in the distant mountains.

A little mocking measure.

It was glorious—worth a month of life—or at any rate it would have been if the Rabbit and Patsey had not been observed dancing a little mocking measure of their own device about twenty yards from the real dancers.

Now it is a difficult thing to look thoroughly arch and roguish while some one is imitating you, and though Mary and Miss Crocodile struggled fiercely to keep up their saucy smile, they could not help casting an occasional glance of bitterness and rage at the Rabbit and Patsey, who were mincing and curvetting with an artless coquetry twice as winning as their own.

They could barely restrain themselves until the dance had ended in a roar of applause, and then, cutting short their graceful curtsey of acknowledgment in the middle, they sprang after the little beasts, and, with hoods flying out behind, chivied them round and round until they took refuge in the skirts of Baby Jane, who had hardly noticed the mocking dance, and thought that the chivying was merely an innocent romp.

But Miss Crocodile was not to be put off, and assuming a pleasant smile, she went up to Baby Jane and suggested a playful combat with wooden broadswords between herself and Patsey. It seemed rather a good idea, and as Patsey raised no objection, it was arranged to take place at once.

Patsey appeared first in the arena, and there he sat on his sword, looking very small and innocent, like a little brown bumble-bee roosting on a twig. Miss Crocodile soon followed, with a nasty smile on her lips. (A three-inch mouth can display a great deal of nastiness; consider, then, the possibilities of a three-foot mouth!) She wasted no time, and rushing up, swung her sword to knock the bumble-bee off its twig, but as the sword reached Patsey, he fluttered a yard into the air, and, before Miss Crocodile could recover herself, his weapon had whistled twice round his head and landed—thwack!—upon her tenderest row of teeth. It was cruelly painful, and Miss Crocodile rolled on the ground and wept aloud, while Patsey skipped chuckling round her, until Baby Jane caught him and cuffed him severely. If he could not play without being rough, she said, he should not play at all. She was very fond of little Patsey, but felt that she must be a stern mother to him.

He fluttered a yard in the air.

Now the Lion had also observed Patsey and the Rabbit's little mocking dance, so when the Piccaninny, armed with a lance, was mounted on his back to engage the Rabbit, who had a sword and rode pick-a-back on Patsey, he thought it a good opportunity of serving out a little stern justice on that couple.

It was arranged that the Piccaninny and the Rabbit were to charge together from a distance and see which could unhorse the other. The Lion's idea was to take no notice of the sword-and-lance business, but simply to rush at the offending couple, knock them head-over-heels and generally maul them. But the Rabbit also had his notions, and contrived that the course should pass close to a fox-hole, of which there were several around.

'Nothing like arranging your port in case of a storm,' he remarked to Patsey.

Well, the course was cleared and the signal given—'Charge!' With a roar and a rush the Lion came thundering down the line, and, to the admiration of the whole army, the Rabbit went bravely out to meet him. But he was watching the Lion's face keenly, and at the last moment he caught a gleam in his eye. At that instant they were passing the fox-hole, and the Lion was but a yard away.

The Lion came thundering down the line.

'Down, Monkey!' shrieked the Rabbit, and down the hole they shot together feet foremost. The Lion was astounded at the mysterious disappearance of the couple, and in his struggles to pull up he caught his foot in the Piccaninny's lance, shot that child twenty yards away, and himself came bump on his chin. He got up slowly, trying to retain his dignity, and looked haughtily round.

Two little smiling faces were regarding him from over the edge of the hole. They nodded pleasantly to him.

'How's your Auntie Lou?' asked the Rabbit, as if to break the ice.

Two little smiling faces were regarding him.

The Lion had no Auntie Lou, and he stared stonily in front of him without reply. There was a long pause, and then the Rabbit inquired:

'Say, Mister, are you going to be rough if we come up?'

'Yes,' said the Lion, promptly and gravely.

'How many kicks do you reckon to give us?'

'Ten each,' said the Lion.

'Could you make it seven?'

'No.'

'Eight might suit you?'

'No.'

'How about nine?'

'No!' roared the Lion in a temper.

'Well, now, don't get angry,' said the Rabbit; 'we are only asking for information. We aren't coming up this way at all.' And with that they retired below.

Baby Jane had nothing to say in this affair, for the reason that she was consulting Sammy and the Bear on the very important project of which she had spoken to Sammy earlier in the day.

'You remember how King Alfred went among the Danes disguised as a harper,' she said.

Nobody had the faintest recollection of the incident, but they took her word for it, and she went on:

'Well, I mean to disguise myself and go with you, Bear, to the Black Mountains to try and coax away the less bad beasts that may be there, and to find out all the enemy's plans. I shouldn't be afraid with you, Bear, and Sammy would be left in charge of the army until I came back.'

'H'm, it might be done,' said the Bear, 'and I know of a little black bearskin not far away that would just cover you, clothes and all.' He did not mention that at the time there was a little black bear still in the skin.

'Well, that's settled; and,' said Baby Jane, 'Mary shall come with us and be our horse.'

It was pitiful to see how Mary's jaw fell on hearing this.

'But—but—but,' she said in a choking voice, 'I want to be a Major-General—and—and—I've got the cocked hat all ready—and—and—and—I've been learning lots of things. Just look here! This is one thing I've learnt.'

And the poor creature went through the motions of preparing to receive cavalry very creditably. But Baby Jane was stern, and in a little while Mary Carmichael, carrying the adventurous couple, was slouching off.

Here the cunning old Bear whispered loudly to Baby Jane, 'Perhaps, after all, perhaps you had better make her a Major-General. She is no good as a horse—can't trot a little bit.'

Mary began to hum loudly to pretend she hadn't heard, but her ears grew very red, and she began stealthily to quicken her pace until she was slinging out her hoofs in a thundering fourteen-miles-an-hour trot—straight for the enemy's country, the Black Mountains.

Straight for the enemy's country.

CHAPTER VIII

IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP

When they had gone a few miles, the Bear told Mary Carmichael to stop (which she was very glad to do, being breathless and having a bad stitch in her side), and climbing down he walked off gaily and rapidly towards a neighbouring wood.

In a wonderfully short time he came back, carrying over his shoulder a little glossy black bearskin.

Baby Jane danced round him with delight. In a moment she had packed herself and her petticoats into the skin, but she was almost too excited to stand still while the Bear skilfully fastened up the opening—she felt so delightfully safe and cosy, peeping forth at the outer world through the little eye-holes.

'But how did you get it?' she asked. It was always an unwise question to ask the Bear. However, he did not seem to hear her, but began talking as if to himself in an absent-minded way.

Baby Jane danced round him with delight.

'What to do with our boys! Yes, that's a puzzle. Now, there was my nephew Billy. Ah! a bad sort was Billy; his heart was as black as his hide. No sort of good for anything, and so unkind and rude to his poor old Uncle. And yet it was his dear old Uncle that found some use for him!'

You will probably understand why it was lucky that Baby Jane was prevented from asking any more questions by a strange appearance, which altogether turned her thoughts from the little black bearskin.

She was almost too excited to stand still.

Just as they made Mary kneel down like a camel so that they might settle themselves comfortably upon her back to continue the journey, they heard a loud squeaking and whistling behind them and the patter of galloping feet, and who should pull up alongside but the Rabbit mounted on a fox!

'My eye! What a guy!' was his first remark as he pointed rudely at Baby Jane in her new disguise, and then he stuffed his paw into his mouth as if to stifle his laughter.

'What, you Rab——' cried Baby Jane, but the Rabbit cut her short by clapping one paw to his lips, while he pointed at the fox with the other and frowned heavily. Then he winked, and, craning his neck, whispered in Baby Jane's ear:

'Sh! sh! He thinks I'm a wolf!'

'Thinks you're a wolf?'

'That's it,' said the Rabbit calmly. 'I was coming after you and getting pretty tired, when I met him. He looked rather nasty, so I asked him if he had just met a rhinoceros disguised as an ostrich and a lion disguised as a walrus. All my friends were travelling in disguise. He looked more respectful after that, and he asks politely, "And what may you be?"'

'What did you say?' asked Baby Jane.

'Oh,' said the Rabbit lightly, 'I just barked at him and told him that I was a young wolf in disguise, and that he might give me a lift, and look lively about it. And here I am!'

Then he held up his arms to be picked up by Baby Jane; and the Bear, having picked them both up, clambered on to Mary's back. The whole party then moved off, leaving the Fox gazing after them in bewilderment.

'Good-bye, Foxy,' cried the Rabbit, waving his paw over Baby Jane's shoulder. 'I'm a wolf, ain't I? But you wouldn't guess what this is!' (Here he pointed to Mary Carmichael.) 'You might think it was a bony 'bus-horse. But it isn't; it's a hairy antelope in disguise!'

This was too much for the Fox's powers of belief, and it suddenly dawned upon him that the Rabbit had been utterly untruthful from first to last. For the next few minutes he was the wildest animal ever seen, even in that land of wild animals.

After this Baby Jane's cavalcade trotted steadily on, and the Mountains rose higher and higher into the sky before them. It was hard to think that they were inhabited by bad creatures, for they were very beautiful. From rounded foot-hills of olive velvet, embroidered with glowing red-stemmed, black-capped pine trees, broad cliffs flanked by pinnacles, all of black marble veined with white, rose, step by step, to the snow-clad heights piled up against the sky like thunder-clouds passing away.

They had wondered why they had met none of the enemy; and now they saw the reason, for up the foot-hills a never-ending line of beasts was winding among the pine trees and disappearing into a great cleft in a marble cliff. With the Bear leading, and now all on foot, the little party calmly joined in the procession, and such was their air of self-possession that nobody suspected them in the least. To be sure, Baby Jane was shaking in her bearskin on finding herself walking among these terrible creatures, but she kept close against the Bear. It was Mary and the Rabbit who really were in danger, but the Black Mountain Band evidently had something important on hand and had no thought of eating for the moment.

By-and-bye, keeping in the stream of animals, they passed into the great pointed cleft in the face of the cliff. For some little way it ran like a tunnel, but then it grew higher and wider, how high and how wide they could not tell, but in the dim light from the entrance they could follow huge marble pillars up and up until they were lost in darkness a hundred yards above their heads, and the blackness in the depths of the cavern was faintly jewelled with thousands of pale green eyes—it seemed to be an infinite distance.

Along the wall near the entrance ran a ledge about ten feet high, and up and down this a gigantic Leopard prowled restlessly, as if he were in a cage.

At length, when the stream of shadowy creatures had ceased to flow through the entrance, he came to a stop in the middle of the ledge, and, raising his head, cried in a horrible, snarling voice:

'What news of those tame sheep in the plain?'

'Meaning us!' whispered the Rabbit behind his paw.

'Nobody seems to know anything. I'd better give him a little news myself'; and then, to the horror of Baby Jane, he stood up and snapped his fingers to attract the Leopard's attention. For some moments the Leopard's eye, roving over the dim assembly, did not catch the little figure. The Rabbit gave a shrill whistle between his fingers, and shouted 'Hi, Mister!'

Then the Leopard turned his head haughtily towards the little beast, and the many thousand green eyes in the depths of the cavern also turned slowly altogether upon the impertinent animal, whom no one had eaten merely because he was thought to be the big Bear's supper.

'Here you are!' squeaked the Rabbit, 'extry special news from our own correspondent'; and then he struck a fine attitude, and went on: 'Disguised as a duck-billed platypus, coolly I strolled into the enemy's camp. I thought they were the most trumpery tadpoles that ever I saw until I met their generals. They were ten times worse. First there was that girl Baby Jane, funniest thing you ever saw! Those freckles on her nose, oh my!'

'There are only two,' whispered Baby Jane fiercely, 'and they are little ones!'

'Then there was a Bear. Well, ha, ha! it called itself a Bear. I thought it was a moth-eaten hearthrug come to life. And as for the Horse, her bones stick out so they catch in the creepers and things, as she goes along, and they have to stop every minute to unhook her. But the Rabbit—he's the one bright spot in that shabby lot, a well set up young fellow, and clever as he is good-looking; yet they say that that Baby Jane slaps him cruelly at times.'

'And will slap him twice as cruelly when she gets him outside,' whispered Baby Jane again.

Baby Jane slaps him cruelly at times.

Here the Leopard made an impatient movement.

'How many are there?' he snarled.

'Oh, say half each for the ladies and gentlemen present,' said the Rabbit, affecting to count off the steady green eyes with his paw; 'and they are just ready for the table!'

'That horse—think of grilled bones, your lordship, a splendid lot of bones for grilling she has! And that Bear, fat as pork. Think of the crackling! But mind that Rabbit. Fried, fricasseed, roast or raw, don't you have nothing to do with him. He lives on cod liver oil and crumpets, and tastes even worse!'

'To-morrow I give a banquet in the plain!' roared the Leopard, and in answer, from the depths of the cavern came a great juicy, 'Thlap, thlap!' of smacking lips.

'Drop in at tea-time!' said the Rabbit. 'They can't move then. You should just see the amount they put away. That Horse always has six cups!'

'I never did!' said Mary.

·····

There was an ominous silence. Baby Jane trembled in her bear-skin as she saw the Black Leopard's glittering green eyes fixed upon the little band. The Rabbit then seemed to see that there was something wrong. But it was too late! It was done! They were betrayed!

CHAPTER IX

THE RESCUE

A dreadful stillness fell upon the dim assemblage, and the thousand green eyes turned together slowly upon Mary and her comrades. But the eyes of the Leopard were more dreadful than all. Grinning savagely, with his head stretched out towards them and his ears flat back, he glared at them for some minutes as if about to spring.

Suddenly he uttered a yelling laugh that echoed a hundred times among the distant pillars of the cave.

'They are not spies,' he whined mockingly. 'The fat Bear and the thin Horse have come to enter my army; and so they shall to-morrow at breakfast-time. But I have been a fool, and for a penance I will eat that ill-flavoured Rabbit—now!'

'First catch your Rabbit,' said that animal, and, nimbly dodging the heavy paws that slapped at him, he vanished through the entrance.

Kicked savagely at all who tried to seize her.

The Leopard was in a foaming rage.

'Seize the spies,' he howled. 'Away with them to the high camp.'

She was hurried after the others.

At that moment the awfulness of her mistake dawned upon Mary, and she set up a loud 'Boo-hoo!' and, still weeping, struggled and kicked savagely at all who tried to seize her—jumped in the air, and kicked with all four legs at once. But in the end she was firmly clutched, and, with a strong beast holding each leg and three more pushing behind, she was hurried after the others. The big Bear had gone quietly, for fear of damage to the little black bear whom he carried tight in his arms.

Then, to the melancholy accompaniment of Mary's wailing—and she gave an awful yell whenever they pushed her on to her nose—surrounded by a glowering throng of wolves and hyænas and hippopotamuses, they were hustled upwards in the deepening dusk by steep ravines and precipice paths, until, through a narrow pass, they entered a wide grassy plain, walled on three sides by encircling spurs, and on the fourth by the steep snow-slope of the mountain summit itself.

From the snow-slope a stream sprang, and twisted through the plain until it slid, deep, transparent, ice-green, down beside the entrance path.

After the prisoners poured the whole of the Black Mountain Army, who, having set a guard at the entrance, all lay down to sleep, covering the plain closely with their dark forms.

Baby Jane was usually a hungry child, and liked sometimes to fall asleep thinking of breakfast, but now she did not like the idea at all. It was horrid to think that she was now, as it were, a little sausage waiting on the pantry shelf; indeed, the idea was so uncomfortable that she could not sleep, but nestled close to the Bear and watched the stars come out from behind the faintly glowing snow peak.

But what had happened to the Rabbit? If only he could come and take a message to her army! He would not leave her of his own accord, but would wait about near her.

At that moment she felt a curious heaving of the ground beneath her back; it was like a tiny earthquake. What could it be? She moved away from that spot, and with her hand felt the earth rise in a little mound higher and higher. Then the mound divided, there was a sound of a sneeze, and the Rabbit's head emerged. He brushed the earth off his ears and whiskers, and then remarked, complacently:

'If you know a rabbit who thinks he can burrow, fetch him along, and I'll teach him what proper burrowing's like. Down I went just outside the entrance, and up I come here!'

Baby Jane was so overcome with delight that she hugged the Rabbit's head in her arms and nearly smothered him with kisses. Then she quietly wakened the Bear and Mary, and the whole party held a whispered council of war.

After sitting with a puckered forehead for some minutes, Mary sagely suggested:

'Of course, all we've got to do is to burrow back after the Rabbit.'

The Rabbit sniggered behind his paw:

'I'd like to see you burrowing about in a hedgerow, you beauty. Fancy a warren of cab-horses!'

'You mustn't all be silly,' said Baby Jane. 'You won't laugh when you find yourself being laid for breakfast to-morrow morning. Run, Rabbit, as hard as you can, and tell my army to march here faster than ever an army marched before.'

But even at this desperate moment that wild Rabbit must play his pranks, and, instead of at once departing down his hole, he went loping off into the darkness among the sleeping beasts.

'I must wish my little Leopard good-night,' he explained over his shoulder as he went.

In a few minutes they heard a shrill voice at some distance singing:

'Bye, Baby Bunting. Didums go a-hunting? Didums chase a rabbit? Didums try to grab it? Didums want a rabbit-skin To wrap his baby tootsies in?'

Then there came a fierce growl and a rush, and the Rabbit shot past them, into his hole, like a flash of lightning.

Long hours of waiting followed. In thought Baby Jane saw the Rabbit racing furiously mile after mile across the dark desert, growing tired and panting till his heart was nearly bursting; but galloping, galloping on. Now his little muscles gave out utterly, and yet he went galloping on—with his soul. At last, with eyes growing dim, he saw a palm slender and black against the starlit sky, and round it wide dark shadows—the sleeping regiments of Baby Jane's army.

Then, it might be, he gathered his last shred of strength for that last mile, and came galloping desperately in among the startled beasts, to fall head over heels as if he were shot dead.

Then Baby Jane fancied she heard Sammy and the colonels calling out their troops in proper style, and a moment later there was a dull, steady sound, as of the sea on a distant shore or of five thousand galloping beasts. In her imagination this sound came steadily on. What! Was it imagination? She had been fancying so long she could hardly tell. For a long minute she strained her ears eagerly. Then a faint night air came up from the plain, and suddenly the sound grew real and distinct. It was no fancy. Her army was coming!

The others had heard it too, and they huddled together, hoping that none of the Black Mountain band would wake and hear it. No one stirred.

'The sound has stopped!' whispered Mary.

'They have reached the foot of the mountain, and are climbing,' whispered the Bear.

With her heart thumping in her chest, Baby Jane listened without breathing. The silence was as dead as if the two armies upon the mountain were boulders of its own rock. Minute after minute went by....

A deafening roar rang out. The sound of bodies hurled to the ground. A rushing sound—and the Lion came flying out of the darkness. He seized Baby Jane in his mouth, and, turning sharp round, raced for the pass.

But now the whole Black Mountain army was awake, roaring, yelling, screaming, trumpeting, and the Lion found a close rank of them barring his way. With poor Baby Jane over his shoulder, he flung himself against them. He went hurtling through, and the dark pass was open before him; but, alas, even as he reached it he stumbled on to his knees. A hundred great paws and talons had struck at him as he went through, and he was broken somewhere.

But instantly he got up again, and pushing Baby Jane behind him in the narrow path, with a cliff on one side and a deep stream on the other, he faced the Black Mountain army alone. He had far outstripped his own regiments, and the Bear and Mary had been lost in the scrimmage.

In twos and threes the horrid beasts of the enemy flung themselves upon him. To Baby Jane, crouching behind him, every fight was alike, and she could not count them. There was a silence, a threefold snarl, and a scrambling rush; and then the Lion rose high and struck as many blows as there were assailants. At each blow the rock shook on which they stood, and the walls of the ravine rang with the deafening crash. Each damaged beast was swept into the deep stream and carried away. But out of many hundred assailants one now and then would get in a blow, and the Lion himself was damaged and broken in many places.

Patsey's artillery ...

Suddenly, above the sound of fighting, Baby Jane heard the wicked yell of the Leopard. At once the lesser assailants all drew off, and, peeping round the Lion, she saw the lord of the Black Mountain Band slouching across the now open space towards him. The Lion watched him steadily, but he kept his head sideways as if he did not know there was anything before him. In this way he came within a few yards of the Lion, and there paused to lick his shoulder. But then, with frightful suddenness, he turned and launched himself at his foe. The Leopard was fresh, and the Lion was tired and damaged; but the Leopard had nothing but his muscles and his horrid rage, the Lion had a great heart. For a few moments they grappled; then the Lion managed to shake himself free, caught the huge Leopard behind the neck, and, with a mighty effort, slung him forward high into the air. You might have counted four slowly before you heard him crash to the ground. Baby Jane did not hear that horrible sound—she pushed her fingers into her ears, and shut her eyes so that she might not see what happened when he fell.

Then the monotonous fights began again, and the Lion, in spite of his courage, was growing feeble. In a little while they would both be seized and eaten. The sky overhead was now growing a pearly grey, the first sign of a day they might never see, and their hearts were growing chilly, when suddenly from the cliffs overhead a clattering hail of cocoa-nuts rattled upon the skulls of the astonished foe, and a loud hurroo filled their two hearts with comfort—Patsey's artillery had come into action!

But wolves and rhinoceroses are not to be driven off with cocoa-nuts, and again the foe pressed forward. Again, in spite, of the friendly shouts and heavy fire of the field-monkeys overhead, Baby Jane's heart sank within her. Would it not be better to fall into the river, where you might swim, than into the inside of a rhinoceros, where you certainly could not? As she gazed at the stream it struck her that it had a strange, dark, streaky look. Then she gave a great start, for an eye had slowly risen above the water and solemnly winked at her. It was Miss Crocodile leading her regiment stealthily up the stream.

... had come into action.

The eye disappeared, and the next that was seen of Miss Crocodile was at a point where the river ran through the densest masses of the enemy. There, all in a line, as if worked by one machine, a hundred crocodile heads rose above the bank, seized, each of them, the nearest leg, and disappeared with their prey under the water. This manœuvre was repeated three times with beautiful precision before the dazed Black Mountaineers had the sense to rush from the river bank. At last the Lion, now broken in every breakable place, had rest, for Baby Jane was safe.

But only safe for the time being, for the enemy were still in great force and desperate with rage. Indeed, even now they were gathering at the foot of the great snow-slope for a last charge upon the Lion and the crocodiles. But none of them had looked up at the crowning ridge of that slope. There they would have seen a long dark line standing out against the paling sky—it was the entire brigade of lions and bears, under Sammy! They had missed the path that led into the plain, and now, having reached the very crest of the mountain, at last saw the foe beneath them. The Black Mountaineers were at that very instant preparing to charge the devoted band in the entrance of the pass. Not a second was to be lost.

'Sit!' shouted Sammy. 'Prepare to coast! Go!' And with that word the whole brigade went sliding down the snow-slope in a dense line.

'Sh—sh—sh—sh!' (But I cannot 'shish' loud enough to represent three thousand beasts coming down a snow-mountain on their tails!)

Gathering speed as they went until they were whistling downwards through the air like a living hailstorm, they struck the Black Mountain army from behind with an awful bump, and sent them flying headlong on their noses. Before those wretched creatures could regain their feet a true-hearted beast was sitting on the head of each. The battle was over. There was no longer a Black Mountain army!

They struck the Black Mountain army from behind.

At the moment of victory, from the middle of the field, as if by magic, up poured the regiment of rabbits, led by their gallant colonel. (He had been waiting at his hole until that moment arrived.) They wheeled smartly into line.

'Charge!' cried the Colonel, and with a hurricane of squeaks they swept across the field. Unluckily they met a baby leopard in their course, but with great presence of mind they turned about and charged the other way.

They met a baby leopard in their course.

This was a fortunate change of plan, for in a far corner they found Mary and the Bear tussling with a gnu and a stork, each couple gripping the other by the wrists (so to speak) and claiming them as prisoners.

At a safe distance the Rabbit halted his regiment, and squeaked in a loud voice:

'In the Queen's name, I arrest you all—for brawling. Come with me!'

The unreasonableness of this announcement for a moment stunned the four fighters; then the impertinence of it struck them even more strongly, and they did come with him—that is to say, he and his regiment ran for dear life, and they ran after him.

Thus, followed by the four frantic beasts, he rushed into the middle of Baby Jane's army, squeaking triumphantly, 'Victory! Victory! Two comrades rescued! Two prisoners taken!' Luckily the cheers of the army drowned the heated explanations of Mary and the Bear.

Mary and the Stork.

And now Baby Jane, no longer a black bear, but a pretty little girl again, stood with one arm round the neck of the broken Lion, and all her loving beasts around her, like a queen before her conquering army. And the morning sun, looking through the pass, gilded her locks, and made a crown of them, and, for her Majesty to walk upon, laid a golden carpet across the cool, shaded grass.

Down the golden carpet she came, her people flocking after her, through the pass, and out into the open morning upon the mountain side, where the sun made everything beautiful and comfortable.

CHAPTER X

THE FINISH

In the warmth of the sun upon the mountain side anger and fear evaporated, and the morning breeze blew away all memory of that horrid night.

Every one's spirits rose sky-high. 'Come along!' cried Baby Jane. 'Breakfast.' And the Queen, her court, and the army took hands and skipped to a dancing tune all the way down the mountain. The very prisoners under escort, even the crossest camel—though they tried to look proud and cold—could not resist a little sulky hop between each step; and the damaged Lion, riding pick-a-back on the Bear, joggled gaily up and down till he nearly upset his steed.

Upon the velvety slope of the foot-hills that ran out into the flat white desert the breathless multitude all sat down to breakfast. Of course, the Black Mountain beasts had to pretend they did not like vegetarian fare; but, for all that, they gobbled in a way that shocked the well-brought-up pupils of Baby Jane, especially the Rabbit—in fact, that creature kept up a continual flow of shrill reproof—'Small mouthfuls!' 'Shut your mouth!'—and rapped all the knuckles he could reach with a long stick when they were stretched rudely for food, until Baby Jane boxed his ears and told him to mind his own business.

When they had all finished and were brushing the crumbs from their laps, Baby Jane thought it a good time to speak seriously to them.

'I am so glad you're all good now,' she said. 'Do you know, even when I was quite little I always thought some of you looked so nice and thoughtful in your cages; and as you don't know how to pretend, of course you must really be nice if you could only be understood and taught better.

'But I really never thought that all you great wild animals would listen to a little girl; and yet, after all, it has come true! Oh, there is something in the world besides fighting and crying. Poor dears, you shall know it now. I and my old friends the Lion and the others know such a lot of fun, and we will teach it to you.

'And if any of you aren't good,' she couldn't help adding to herself, 'we'll teach you something nasty,' for she did not sincerely like the look of the rhinoceroses and hippopotamuses. 'Come along,' she cried aloud, forgetting her suspicions. 'Now let us have a dance.'

And with that she and her friends, who were bursting with pride at the idea of helping to teach, came skipping down the slope, and began arranging the beasts for a sort of country dance.

'Choose your partners,' cried Baby Jane, 'and don't be shy!'

Of course her little voice was never heard by the more distant creatures; her messages were passed from mouth to mouth, and it was odd to hear a gruff buffalo roaring in the distance—

'Choose your partners, and don't be shy!'

At first no one would venture, and it was the Rabbit who gave them a lead. He walked up to the tallest lady giraffe he could find, he did, crooked his arm to lead her out, and—

'May I have the pleasure?' said he, as bold as brass.

But right away up there she did not hear him, so, growing impatient, he grasped her leg, and up he went hand over hand. Then he proceeded up her neck, and when, after five minutes' climbing, his face was level with hers, he squeaked at the top of his voice—

'May—I—have—the—pleasure?'

'May—I—have—the—pleasure?'

The giraffe started violently.

'Oh, my gracious!' she said. 'I thought it was a beetle running up me!'

And then, unluckily, the Rabbit's whiskers tickled her nose, and she sneezed him twenty yards away on to the ground.

'That's the worst of these tall girls,' said he. 'They make a man feel so small.' And he picked himself up and went and danced with a merry little marmoset.

The Bear danced with a pleasant but homely zebra, and Mary with an ostrich, with whom she flirted scandalously. Sammy said he was not a dancing man, and, quietly departing, he loaded his barrow with oranges; and later on, sad to relate, drove a roaring trade among the poor heated beasts, taking all their little valuables in exchange for his goods. He was not selfish, simply a born man of business. However, you can imagine he took marvellous good care not to come near Baby Jane.

When the last nervous gnu had led out his bashful bustard the dance began. Whichever way Baby Jane turned she looked down long lines of swaying dancers with light feet leaping all in time—it made her head swim with excitement; and the tune of the whistling rabbits came lilting and trilling across the plain, and filled her heart with glee.

She had been only watching the fun to keep her poor bandaged Lion company, but her feet were twitching to be off. She glanced at him, and found that he was glancing at her.

'Come along!' said he suddenly; and the next instant they were dancing as if for dear life. And, strange to say, though the Lion's bandages all slipped off, his bones remained quite straight. So wonderful was the air of this land and so splendid his constitution that they had mended themselves already!

The puffing of that crowd when it at last came to a stop sounded like a stationful of shunting engines. They were all very hot, and also very thirsty.

'Let's race for the river,' cried Baby Jane.

Then the Lion tossed her on to his back, and half of the others having got on the other half's backs—sometimes two beasts each tried to get on to the other's back at the same time—the whole army started off at a tearing gallop.

Miss Crocodile led for a short distance, for she was wonderfully quick on her legs, and had rather meanly refused to carry any one. After a while, inch by inch, the Lion, who was the fastest creature on that desert, overhauled and passed her.

'Anyhow, I've beaten that Rabbit!' she screamed. 'He thinks he's a regular race-horse.'

'And so he is,' said that creature, jumping off her own tail, where he and Patsey had been riding unnoticed. 'Why, just look at this!'

And with that, being fresh as paint, he sailed away from her, and left her gasping all the rude things she could think of after him.

She tripped on to her chin.

Of course the Lion and Baby Jane came in first, but the Rabbit and Patsey were second. Mary Carmichael would have been third, but she tripped on to her chin and grazed it badly, and was passed by a little black panther riding a gnu.

When they had all refreshed themselves, in high delight with the pleasure Baby Jane had given them, they swarmed round the foot of a hillock, where she stood beneath a palm that hung its boughs like a canopy over her, looking up at her and waiting for more fun.

Suddenly the Lion came out of the crowd, and, followed by the other friends, rushed half-way up the slope towards her; then, turning to the great multitude, he swung aloft a cocoa-nut goblet and roared in a voice that echoed among the mountains—

'A health to her Majesty!'

Surely never before had human child seen the sight that followed! Ten thousand wild animals—fifty 'Zoos' let loose—crowding nearly to the horizon, flung up their paws and roared her name with one tremendous voice.

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It was ever so: at the moment of triumph comes the fall, and the royal Queen becomes the no-account nursery child.

Before the last echo of that great shout had died away among the distant cliffs an agitated animal came pushing through the crowd with the tidings that a fat man was coming along from the eastward. With one accord the whole company ran out to have a look at him.

There he was—a stout, stately man, pacing soberly over the desert; and at the sight of him Baby Jane cried in a tone of bitter annoyance—

'Why, it's Markham!'

'Why, it's Markham!'

Then, after standing for a moment with face bowed down, trying to restrain her tears, she rushed behind the Lion and the Bear, and, crouching between them, burst into loud and decidedly unqueenlike weeping.

'Why do they send for me?' she sobbed, 'just when everything has come right, and I am having such fun and have grown so fond of my beasts?'

Her two big friends were much disturbed by her grief. 'Oh, don't cry, please, don't cry,' they said, and tried to dry her eyes with a corner of her own frock. 'We aren't very hungry, but, if you like, we will try and manage him.'

In the meanwhile Mr. Markham, the butler (for such he was), was equally upset.

'Mercy on us!' he said, 'what mischief will that child come into next? There she is, now, just going to be eaten up by roaring lions, as sure as I'm alive!'

But he did not seem sure of being alive very long, for he found himself in a square—or as near it as could be got by one naturally formed in a circle—and prepared for his last dinner party.

After a little while, seeing that the terrible beasts did not seem immediately inclined to dine on him, and that Miss Jane was actually hiding among them, his natural self-possession returned to him.

'Miss Jane! Miss Jane!' he called, speaking slowly and with dignity, 'your mamma wishes you to come home at once. She is very vexed with you being out so long—and without your hat, too! And I don't think she would at all like your playing with strange animals.'

'Who's a strange animal?' cried Mary Carmichael sharply.

'Oh, no offence, no offence,' said the butler, making a stiff little bow, 'but my instructions is that the young lady is to come home at once. Your mamma says,' he went on slowly, addressing Baby Jane, 'that she has allowed you to spend your holidays where you please, but you should have been home when lessons began again. They are looking for you everywhere. Peter has gone to Peru, and Miss McColl is in the Western Hebrides. But I said to Mrs. Cook, "When young ladies who is as fond of lions and bears as our Miss Jane goes travelling, those who aren't quite devoid of intellect will know where to find them. Miss Jane is in Africa."'

'I suppose I must go,' said Baby Jane, with dismal little sniffs for commas. 'Oh, my dear beasts, what lovely times I have had with you! I will come back; oh yes, I will come back, or you shall come to me, and we will all live together in a cottage in the country and have great times and astonish all the neighbours. Oh, send me a message by the Swallows—I know they come over the sea from here—if ever you want me badly.'

She patted Miss Crocodile, and kissed the Piccaninny once on his forehead; then she put her arms round the neck of the Lion, and of the Bear, and the Rabbit and Patsey, and kissed them twenty times, and then walked unsteadily away towards Mr. Markham.

He in the meanwhile had been in close conference with Sammy, Mary, and Edouardo, who had all applied for situations in Baby Jane's household, and he had promised to recommend them—Sammy and Edouardo to help the gardener, and Mary as a 'stylish horse to draw a victoria'—as she described herself.

Then, with Baby Jane and Sammy in the barrow, and Markham riding Mary, the little party wended its way back towards the tame ordinary world.

When Baby Jane last saw her well-beloved beasts they were standing upon a knoll like a row of black statues against the setting sun.

'Be very good. I'll come back soon!' she cried. And they answered like an echo—

'Come back soon!'

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Now, you may wonder that Baby Jane's mother should allow so young a person to spend her holidays where and how she chose, but you will agree with me that if all parents were as liberal-minded there would be many exciting adventures to relate. For instance, if you were given this liberty, what would you do?

FOOTNOTES:

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.

Punctuation has been corrected without note.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected as follows: Page 101: or changed to of