8o NEIGHBOURS UNKNOWN 



already swarming over him, crawling, burrow- 

 ing deep into the fur about his face and neck 

 and belly. Furiously they plunged and re- 

 plunged their long, flame-like stings. His 

 eyes and muzzle crawled with the fiery tor- 

 ment. Clawing, striking, snapping, grunting, 

 whimpering, he rolled over and over in 

 desperate effort to rid himself of the all- 

 pervasive attack. But the foes he crushed 

 had already left behind their poison in his 

 veins. For a few moments his monstrous 

 contortions went on, while in a glassy patch 

 of white light, on the trunk above, clung the 

 racoon, gazing down upon him with liquid, 

 elvish eyes. At length, quite beside himself 

 with the torment, he reared upon his hind- 

 quarters, battling in the air. Then he lunged 

 forward, and went scrambling headlong over 

 the slippery black jumble of roots. 



The great beast's first impulse, one may 

 guess, was simply that of flight, of mad effort 

 to escape from foes whom he could not cope 

 with. Having no heed of his direction, the 

 blind guidance of trunk and root led him 

 around in a rough circle, till he came almost 

 back to the tree of his fate. Between him 

 and the tree, however, lay a spacious patch 

 of morass, fairly firm on the surface, but 

 underneath, a slough of viscous mud. His 



