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.

The Leopard was in a foaming rage.

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

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 hyaenas 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.

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.

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 manoeuvre 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!

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.

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.

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.