Not a whit discouraged by this disaster, Spite looped the end of the cable over the weed, and before Madam had fairly got her breath again, he had made fast the log, reascended the bush, and was pulling might and main upon the rope. He had his reward. There was no second breaking of the cable, although Madam Breeze threw her weight upon the log. It reached its position. It hung nearly over the roof. Spite tied the rope, crept out upon the branch, reached down to the log, and with one push of his long arm swung it inward and over the roof. At the same time he cut the cable. The log dropped to its place. The roof that had been bulging out, just ready to burst, sank into its true position. The walls were anchored now. The fort was saved![W] Madam Breeze gathered all her strength for a last onset. Whirlit, Whisk, and Keener on the inside vigorously seconded her attempt. But it failed. [Illustration: FIG. 33.--A Spider Drawing up a Swathed Grasshopper to its Leafy Den, "Hand Over Hand."] "Well, well," said Madam, "I give it up! I'm out of breath--clear blowed--hoogh! I've scarce wind enough to get home with--wheeze! Come out of that, lads. Our work is done for to-day." The three Elves crept, rather crestfallen, out of the opening in the roof made by the pebble, and the whole party without more ado, or another word, puffed back to Lone Aspen. Spite sat upon the branch and watched their departure. He rubbed his hands, and said, "Aha!" He knew that he had done a deed that would gain him glory among the Pixies. That was pleasant; but after all, that which pleased him best was the thought that he had saved a Pixie fort from which to plot and war against the good Brownies. [Illustration: FIG. 34.--An Orbweb with a Pebble Counterpoise.] Yes, my dears, one may be clever, wise and accomplished, but very, very bad withal. As poet Burns truly sang: "The heart aye's the part aye That maks us right or wrang." Hide and his company of Pixies came up to the fort soon after Madam Breeze and her retainers had gone. The south gate was thrown open, and the inmates ran out and mingled with their friends, loudly praising the deed by which Spite had saved the fort. The hero of all this praise sat quietly on his perch resting, surveying the field, and thinking. He had need of his wisest thoughts; for the victorious Brownies were already beyond the outer line of the demilune, steadily driving Heady and his division before them. Spite dropped to the ground by the cable that still swung upon the bush. "Go back into the fort," he said to the fugitives. "Your own homes are gone, and that will be the safest place for you now. As for us," addressing the soldiers, "we must make a last stand here and keep it. The sun is nearly down. If we can hold the position for a little longer, night will bring relief, and give time for some plan that shall change the fortune of battle. Advance!"