Our friends were still fast asleep, snugly ensconced in the depths of a hollow bole, when the hostile band appeared. Suddenly an appalling uproar woke them with a start; screwing up their eyes, they tried to discover what was the matter, but they could not see a thing. Meantime dawn had broken, the sun was already shooting his beams like fireworks through the boughs, and great dragonflies were darting to and fro, glittering like emeralds. At last they made out a whirl of wings, looming like a black shadow in the clear morning air. Their assailants swept down and crowded every branch of the old oak, which hummed like a gigantic harp with the twittering of a thousand throats. The poor owls could make nothing of it; owls are simple-minded folk, and all they could think of was that another newly-married couple were celebrating their nuptials, and that the discordant noises they heard were the cries of transport to be expected under the circumstances. They shrunk away still deeper in their hole, not wishing to interrupt other people’s enjoyment. But the tomtits were not satisfied—not they; it was nothing merely to have startled them in their slumbers; they meant to expel them from the old oak altogether. Prompted by the magpie, who sat screaming defiance from the foot of the tree, some of the bolder spirits poked in their heads at the entrance of the cavern. Inside it was dark as night, and from the depths four eyes blazed out like balls of fire. The champions took fright, and fell back hurriedly on the main body. “Cowards!” screeched their amiable ally, raising her harsh voice to its shrillest pitch; “d’ye mean to leave the villains in peace in their den? Think of the horrid carnage there will be in the woods every night! Not one of you will be safe in his nest any more. From time immemorial the owl tribe has been the scourge of the whole bird nation. Their heads are full of nothing but wile and wickedness, and the better to shed blood, they go to work like murderers in the dark! Worse still, they are all heretics. The witches use them in their incantations. They are birds of hell. Slay, slay the foes of Holy Church!” This speech rallied the waverers, and all together they forced a way into the dark, yawning cavern. In a moment a hundred beaks were pecking savagely at the two victims, who, blinded by the light, struck out wildly in self-defence. Two of the tomtits were left on the field, while the rest flew away in a panic, screaming in chorus—“Vengeance! vengeance on the rascally owls!” What had they done? What crime had they committed? Astounded as they were, and amazed to think what motive should have prompted the attack, they could no longer doubt that open war was declared upon them.