ing in his finery, and she grimly
smiled.

"Chakka, chakka," says she; "tchackka, tchackka: you bleed before you're
wounded, Mulgar-royal."

But Nod in the heat of his glory cared nothing for what his old friend
said to quench it. And he told her to bring his brothers to the great
Ukka-tree that stood over against the shadow, where they talked, there
to wait and watch till morning. "By that time," he said, "I shall have
finished my supper with the Nameless, and the Oomgar will know me for
the Prince I am."

Mishcha wagged slowly her old head. She hated the Oomgar, but she hated
the Beast of Shadows more, and off she hopped again, stiff and cold, to
seek out Thimble and Thumb.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

Battle went out hunting as usual the next morning. Tracks of leopards
were everywhere in the night's thin snow. He ventured not far into the
forest, and returned with only a poor old withered bird, too cold and
weak to fly off from his gun.

"It's this way, my son," he said; "I've heard the thing before. That
howl brings half the forest against me, like blue-flies to meat. So all
I does is to keep a weather-eye open, and musket a-cock. One of these
days, Mulgar _mio_, Shadow or no Shadow, she shall have a brace of
bullets in her vitals, as sure as my name's Battle." But in spite of his
fine words, he crouched gloomy and distracted beside his fire all day,
casting ever and anon a stealthy glance over his shoulder, and lifting
his eye slowly above the flames, to survey the clustering fringes of the
forest around his hut.

But Nod told Battle nothing of his talk with the old hare. He did not
as much as tell him even that his brothers were near, or that he had
seen Immanala. He cleaned his master's gun. He busied himself over his
Nano-cakes and nuts, and prevailed on Battle to eat by making him laugh
at his antics. The more he thought of leaving him, and of the danger of
the coming night, and the stony cruelty of Immanala's gloating eyes, his
heart fell deeper and deeper into trouble and dismay. But each time when
it seemed he must run away and hide himself he gulped his terror down,
and touched his Wonderstone.

He himself lugged out Battle's Juddie when evening fell. But Battle had
no mind for merriment and braveries that night. He picked out idly on
the strings old mournful chanties that sailors sometimes sing; and he
taught Nod a new song to bray out in his queer voice, "She's me fo