Wille paused a moment and swung his hat above his head, while Dido waved her handkerchief in recognition of the Brownie cheers. Then the Governor turned, and mowed down the lawn, throwing off at each swing of the scythe a bunch of grass mingled with the ruins of Pixie tents and huts, whose inmates lay struggling beneath the wreck of their homes, or fled to the standing grass, or burrowed and hid around the roots. The Brownies followed them up, searched them out, dispersed or slew them. It was a complete destruction and rout. In a few hours the fragrant grass lay curling in the sun, and not a Pixie tent was left upon the lawn. Spite and Heady made a strong effort to rally their soldiers, and succeeded in forming a line of battle. But the Pixies were so demoralized that the troops broke and fled before the Brownie charges. Many found hiding places in holes and dens of the earth; some escaped in the small boats of the smugglers and pirates; numbers were taken aboard the Stygian ships, and were borne down the lake, closely pursued by the Natties. Lieutenant Heady lay dead upon the field. What had become of Spite? When we last saw him he was sitting alone upon the cliff, filled with rage and wonder at the Brownie rejoicings over the rescue of Faith and Sophia, and waiting in the moonlight for the return of the scouts whom he had sent out to get the news. Not a whisper of tidings could he hear. Bruce had ordered the Brownie pickets to keep the matter from their foes, and no breath of the good news could be gathered from them. For good and sufficient reasons Raft the smuggler had held his knowledge secret, and had kept away from Spite's presence. His yacht, the Fringe, was now anchored just under the cliff, hidden from view by the overhanging grass. Raft had heard for some time the commotion on the lawn, but gave little heed to it. It drew nearer. The singing swish of the scythe against the grass, the cheers of the Brownies and Governor Wille excited his interest. He climbed up the cliff and reconnoitered. He took in the situation at a glance, then turned his eyes toward the inlet. Thereaway the Nattie fleet was under way, and bearing down straight toward the cliff. "It's all up with Pixiedom!" he cried, "for one good long while at least. Good-bye to the lawn! I'm off with the Fringe to safe quarters; I wouldn't lose her to save the whole nation. Every fellow for himself, and deil take the hindmost! That's good Pixie doctrine, so here's cut and away!" He spun out a drag-line, Pixie fashion, and fastening it to a rock, thereby swung himself down the cliff to the grass at the water's edge. Thence he boarded the Fringe, set his sail, pulled up anchor, and was just about leaving the harbor, when a shower of sand and small pebbles rolled upon him. He looked up, and saw a Pixie officer lowering himself down the side of the cliff by blades of grass and ferns. The form seemed familiar; he looked more closely. Yes, it was Spite the Spy.