"Now, before I go, let me tell some of you something. Do you, Philip--" he turns to the bear--"be getting back North as fast as you can. You poor fellow, you must be murdered with the heat entirely, and you with the Arctic furs on. You 'll catch your death here. And as for you," he warns the crocodile, "don't be obstinate, there 's a good fellow! Keep to the water, and you 'll be all right. It's only when you get out, they can get after you. And my little friends the beavers--where are they? Childer, can you hear me?" "But what's all this about?" asks the elephant. "It's just for fear I 'm not coming back." "But why aren't you coming back?" the lion growls. "Och, it's just a notion. Are the beavers there at all, at all?" "No, just a moment!" The tiger is on his feet. "I want to hear more of this. What do you mean by notion? You aren't thinking of leaving us?" There is a quick commotion, a little shudder among all the animals in the background. "Well, now--" the angel is embarrassed--"it's a hard errand I have before me, and what will be at the end of the chapter no one knows. I to be arguing with the Great Man, and demanding your rights, and He to be losing His temper with me--there 's no knowing. So to be on the safe side, I 'll just say good-by to you now. Many 's the pleasant hour we 've known and springtime coming, and many's the little day we 've spent together and winter roaring through the chilly air." "But He never loses His temper, does he? He 's always mild." "Oh, childer dear, ye little know! You all know the Black Man, and when you get the cold wind of his coming you scurry away. He was an angel once, the greatest of them all. Lucifer, they called him, so I 've heard old angels say, and the Hebrew or something for Him who does be bearing light, such a gorgeous angel he was. But one day he and some of his lads began to argue with the Great Man, and before the words were half out of their mouths they were tumbling through the blue spaces of the stars, condemned to eternal hell-fire. Sure, you see them yourselves on Hallowe'en, and them roaring up and down the world, and screeching fit to split the sky." A moan of terror ran through the massed animals. The dog raised his head and howled. "And the wee half-god we all know, him with the horns of the goat, that does the piping in the valleys of spring--sure, he was an angel once. But something went contrary on him, and now he dare n't show his face on heaven or earth, but hides in the branches as wild as a squirrel." And a little shudder of pity arose.