held to celebrate their deliverance from the fox was even more
magnificent than the last, and it went on for two whole days.

"Hencastle was _en fete_ for a time, but it was a very short time. For
the mice were no less glad than the fowls that their enemy was dead; and
now that both he and the owl had disappeared, they came out fearlessly
at all hours of the day, and lived a life quite free from trouble and
care.

"Not so the fowls. What was to be done with the ever-increasing colony
of corn-stealers? The more the fowls meditated, the more the mice
squeaked and played about, and the more corn they dragged away into
their holes. There was even a rumour that some one meddled with the
eggs.

"There was nothing for it but to dispatch the three messengers a third
time, with directions to be more vigilant and careful than before. Away
they flew, farther than ever. The first chance of help that arose was
from a couple of cats and a kite, who seemed likely to perform the
required work, but the cocks declined to accept their aid, feeling that
the Hencastle had suffered too much already from two-winged and
four-legged protectors.

"At length the messengers reached a bit of waste ground close to a
village, and there they saw an extremely grimy-looking gipsy sitting on
a bank. He knocked the ashes out of his black pipe, and muttered, 'I've
the luck of a dog! Here am I with a lot of the best mouse-traps in the
world, and I haven't sold one this blessed day!'

"'Here's luck!' said the wise birds. 'That is exactly the man for us; he
is neither two-winged nor four-legged, so he will be quite safe.'

"They flew down at once to the rat-catcher and made their proposition.
He laughed softly and pleasantly to himself, and accepted their
invitation without any demur, and started at once with a light step and
lighter heart for Hencastle.

"Two days after this, the fowls heard Mark, the watchman, crowing away
lustily from his chimney-pot,

"'What do I see?
Here come the three!
And the black beast they bring
Has no tail and no wing.'

"'But,' added the sentinel in less official language, 'he carries a
bundle of things that look like little houses made of wire.'

"The gipsy was at once taken up to the loft, and having, luckily, a few
scraps of strong-smelling bacon left over from his last night's supper,
he struck a light and managed to make a small fire in the long-disused
grate with some bits of dry grass and chip