In the midst of all this confusion Whiteling and his troops reached the spot unperceived. Grimalkin, catching a glimpse of the Wild Boar's ear sticking out of the moss, took it for a mouse, and springing upon it, bit into it with his sharp teeth. The Wild Boar sprang up in terror and took wildly to flight, while Grimalkin, no less terrified, scrambled frantically up the tree into the very face of Master Petz. The Bear, not prepared for this unexpected encounter, lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, half-killing himself by the fall. More frightened than ever, the Tomcat scrambled blindly up to the tree-top. "Now, it's my turn," thought Reinecke to himself, and immediately tumbled down in affright. Grimalkin tumbled after, while the Drake kept drumming, "Quack-quack, quack-quack, quack-quack," and Ganner hissed with all his might. Thus was Isegrim's host ignominiously routed. The Wolf himself, however, still cowered behind the tree, his head buried in the moss. When the besiegers had withdrawn, Isegrim's scattered forces drew together and began to count their honorable scars. Said Master Petz, "More dead than alive from my heavy fall, I barely managed to make my escape." "A piece of my ear is gone," said the Boar. "He cut it off with his sword." "Let us be thankful, fellows," concluded Reinecke, "that we are no worse off, for if they had been able to fire off one more cannon we should have been hopelessly lost!" "I wish I knew that Dog," said the little boy. "I think he is wiser than our Watch." "The beasts were wiser those days," replied the grandmother. "That was my great-great-grandmother's time." CHAPTER IV THE FIRE OF SHAVINGS The snow had fallen heavily, and some of the sheep were missing. The two moujiks put on their warm sheepskin clothes and went to look for them, taking Watch, the sheep-dog, with them. The starosta sat in the house, making a plough-handle out of a tree-branch which he had cut down one day long ago because he saw it was the right shape for a plough-handle in case he should ever need a new one. The little boy gathered up the shavings that fell from under the long, two-handled knife. He played with them until he was tired of them, and then he gathered them all in the skirt of his shirt and carried them to his grandmother's room. "I have brought you some shavings to make you warm, grandmother," he said. His grandmother opened the stove-door, where the fire was smouldering, carefully covered up, for fuel is dear. The little boy put his shavings in, one by one, and watched them as they slowly caught fire and broke into a blaze. When they were all burned up he went and stood by his grandmother. "Did they make you warm, little grandma?" he asked. "Nice and warm," answered the grandmother. "Now, what can I do for you in thanks?" "A story, a story!" cried the little boy, climbing upon the stove to be comfortable. And the grandmother told the story of THE BEAR, THE BOAR, AND THE FOX