were shut up in an inner
room, where they waited in fear and trembling.

On came the Chamois with noiseless leaps, bounding into the garden,
and approaching the front door with the utmost caution. Everything
appeared to be turning out according to their expectations, and they
already saw themselves in imagination seated in the Heif-house,
revelling in the contents of the Goat-mother's store cupboard.

Their long green coats fluttered in the air, the large bunches of
edelweiss in their hats, glistened in the moonlight.

But a low, clear whistle suddenly sounded.

Each Goat sprang from his hiding place, and with a rush that took the
Chamois completely by surprise, they fell upon the invaders, and drove
them over the precipice.

It was a real triumph; for the Chamois flew down the mountain in the
wildest confusion, falling down, and darting over each other in their
hurry, and never stopping until they had reached their own haunts in
the region of the distant Eismeer.

"A glorious victory!" cried the Lieutenant, "and not a drop of blood
shed."

As to the Goat-mother, she had passed through such a moment of terror
that she had to be assisted out of the back room by three of the
guard, and revived with a cabbage leaf before she could recover
herself. She then embraced everyone all round, and the Goat-father
broached a barrel of lager-beer; while the tame Fox from the Inn (who
had appeared at the Chalet soon after the departure of the rescue
party) ran about supplying the visitors with tumblers.

The next day the Free-will Goats were disbanded, and returned to their
homes; after receiving in public the thanks of the Goat-King for their
distinguished behaviour, and a carved matchbox each "For valour in
face of the horns of the enemy."

The Stein-bok Pedlar was begged to make his home at the Heif Chalet,
but he loved his wandering life too much to settle down.

"Keep the tame Fox instead of me, ma'am," he said, as he shook hands
warmly with his friends at parting. "The poor creature is miserable in
captivity."

He then made the Goat-mother a handsome present of all his remaining
groceries, and departed once more upon his travels.

That same afternoon a special messenger from the Goat-King arrived
with an inlaid musical chair, "as a slight token of regard," for the
Heif-father.

"Well, at all events, it's better than a cuckoo clock," said the
Goat-mother resignedly, "but let me warn you seriously _never to sit