216 THE MIGHTY DREAD. 
fortress here; and a thrush, half-drunk with 
the cold, was kicking among the dead leaves 
for spiders and things that hoped to survive 
till the spring. 
The mouse watched him, bright-eyed, when 
suddenly a steady tap-tap-tapping broke out 
in the stillness, coming from somewhere in 
the direction of the empty lawn, and, drawn 
as by ropes by his innate inquisitiveness, he 
crept farther, and peeped out. 
About ten yards away, from a dank corner 
by the summer-house, on the top of a rough 
table, with its one leg stuck in the ground, 
the sound came steadily—tap, tap, tap, tap- 
tap! It was too dark even to see the tapper 
—like some tiny fairy of the snow hammering 
a coffin for the poor starving robin. All he 
could make out was the regular jerk, jerk, 
jerk of a little white disc on the top of the 
table. But the mouse deemed that further 
investigation might pay. 
He could climb beautifully, of course, like 
all his people, and by way of the privet-hedge 
he climbed, till he came to twigs that brushed 
against the top of the ‘table.’ His bright 
eyes must have reflected the last faint, cold 
gleam of day, as his sharp muzzle poked out, 
for the tapping suddenly stopped. 
For a moment the mouse stared. He found 
