THE REDWING 
which fox and stoat would respect it was a 
harbourage. 
But two hours later, he woke up. It is only 
human beings who believe that there is no 
light at night without open moon and stars. 
Not twenty nights in the year are " pitch dark." 
This night was faintly starlit, and the owl who 
swooped by, found it an eminently desirable 
hunting night. But it was not the owl which 
made Shacaim's heart beat " thit-thud," but a 
certain stir among the cabbages. He heard the 
snuffling of many noses, and caught the glint of 
little eyes not of one pair or two, but of 
dozens. As his irides widened, he made out 
more, bloodthirsty, stealthy, peering from holes 
in the banks, creeping down the cabbage-rows, 
trampling the path where the poultry fed. 
From the bottom of the garden came the 
measured " plop-plop " of a love-sick frog 
travelling towards the Mecca of his people in 
the pond over the road. Suddenly it ceased, 
and instead came a piteous minor cry, as if 
sharp teeth closing upon his soft sides wrung 
it from him. The army in the cabbages flung 
up their heads, and sniffed. Shacaim's blood 
chilled, and unconsciously he chirruped with 
fear. Instantly innumerable eyes turned upon 
him, innumerable tails stirred, innumerable 
paws pattered towards the hedge. . . . Shacaim 
'53 
