A TELLING TAIL. 131 
dearer than life to her. At least, she had 
them down there when she went out for a 
walk, before the coming of the legless one. 
They were not there now, however. I don’t 
know where they had gone, but perhaps the 
glass-snake did. He seemed to have scattered 
and lost them in his writhings. They were 
incapable at that age of independent locomo- 
tion. The mouse met him coming out. 
It was pitch-black in there, and stuffy to 
asphyxiation, for the day was hot. The mouse, 
therefore, may not have known what he was, 
but probably her whiskers, which are as good 
as eyes almost, told her. Anyway, she fought 
—fought well, too. And so did the glass- 
snake. He had to, seeing that he was not 
tired of life. The mouse, however, had the 
advantage of larger teeth as compared with 
those of the enemy, which were scarce big 
enough to pierce your finger. But the reptile 
made up for this in fury. The fire and ferocity 
of his attack was amazing. It appalled the 
mouse even, so that, bitten in a minute way 
from head to foot almost before she could 
move, she turned and bolted. Possibly she did 
not know that he was not a real snake, after all. 
Out of the mouth of the hole she tumbled, 
and out of the mouth of the hole, too, almost 
on top of her, tumbled the reptile. ‘Then— 
