Bitterly cold grew the night.The body froze under me.The cry of the wolves came nearer;I heard their feet soft-padding on the rocky ground;their quick panting filled the air.Through the darkness I saw the many glowing eyes;their half-circle contracted around me.My time was come!I sprang to my feet.--Alas,I had not even a stick!
They came in a rush,their eyes flashing with fury of greed,their black throats agape to devour me.I stood hopelessly waiting them.
One moment they halted over the horse--then came at me.
With a sound of swiftness all but silence,a cloud of green eyes came down on their flank.The heads that bore them flew at the wolves with a cry feebler yet fiercer than their howling snarl,and by the cry I knew them:they were cats,led by a huge gray one.Icould see nothing of him but his eyes,yet I knew him--and so knew his colour and bigness.A terrific battle followed,whose tale alone came to me through the night.I would have fled,for surely it was but a fight which should have me!--only where was the use?
my first step would be a fall!and my foes of either kind could both see and scent me in the dark!
All at once I missed the howling,and the caterwauling grew wilder.
Then came the soft padding,and I knew it meant flight:the cats had defeated the wolves!In a moment the sharpest of sharp teeth were in my legs;a moment more and the cats were all over me in a live cataract,biting wherever they could bite,furiously scratching me anywhere and everywhere.A multitude clung to my body;I could not flee.Madly I fell on the hateful swarm,every finger instinct with destruction.I tore them off me,I throttled at them in vain:
when I would have flung them from me,they clung to my hands like limpets.I trampled them under my feet,thrust my fingers in their eyes,caught them in jaws stronger than theirs,but could not rid myself of one.Without cease they kept discovering upon me space for fresh mouthfuls;they hauled at my skin with the widespread,horribly curved pincers of clutching claws;they hissed and spat in my face--but never touched it until,in my despair,I threw myself on the ground,when they forsook my body,and darted at my face.
I rose,and immediately they left it,the more to occupy themselves with my legs.In an agony I broke from them and ran,careless whither,cleaving the solid dark.They accompanied me in a surrounding torrent,now rubbing,now leaping up against me,but tormenting me no more.When I fell,which was often,they gave me time to rise;when from fear of falling I slackened my pace,they flew afresh at my legs.All that miserable night they kept me running--but they drove me by a comparatively smooth path,for Itumbled into no gully,and passing the Evil Wood without seeing it,left it behind in the dark.When at length the morning appeared,I was beyond the channels,and on the verge of the orchard valley.
In my joy I would have made friends with my persecutors,but not a cat was to be seen.I threw myself on the moss,and fell fast asleep.
I was waked by a kick,to find myself bound hand and foot,once more the thrall of the giants!
"What fitter?"I said to myself;"to whom else should I belong?"and I laughed in the triumph of self-disgust.A second kick stopped my false merriment;and thus recurrently assisted by my captors,Isucceeded at length in rising to my feet.
Six of them were about me.They undid the rope that tied my legs together,attached a rope to each of them,and dragged me away.Iwalked as well as I could,but,as they frequently pulled both ropes at once,I fell repeatedly,whereupon they always kicked me up again.
Straight to my old labour they took me,tied my leg-ropes to a tree,undid my arms,and put the hateful flint in my left hand.Then they lay down and pelted me with fallen fruit and stones,but seldom hit me.If I could have freed my legs,and got hold of a stick Ispied a couple of yards from me,I would have fallen upon all six of them!"But the Little Ones will come at night!"I said to myself,and was comforted.
All day I worked hard.When the darkness came,they tied my hands,and left me fast to the tree.I slept a good deal,but woke often,and every time from a dream of lying in the heart of a heap of children.With the morning my enemies reappeared,bringing their kicks and their bestial company.