“Listen!” said the Head Brownie. “Santa Claus has a Wooden Cow, of which he is very fond. It was only a little toy to begin with, but he fed it with all the shavings and saw-dust of magic wood that were left from his work, and it grew nearly as big as his house! Our master, the Wicked King, has sent us to chop the Wooden Cow up, and bring him back as much of the magic wood as we can carry. That magic wood is very valuable, you see, and very hard to get, and he wants to have some spells made out of it.” “I never heard of anything so dreadful!” Bab exclaimed indignantly. “Poor cow!” “It won’t hurt it at all,” explained the Mischief Brownie. “The cow is nothing but wood, you know. Now, what we want you to do is to help us chop up the cow, for we aren’t big enough to do much by ourselves.” “Indeed, I’ll not help you,” said Bab, decidedly. “I’ll not chop up Santa Claus’s cow, and what’s more,” she cried with a sudden thought, “I’ll save her from you too!” She began to run as fast as she could, Wiggles scampering ahead, and the Brownies after her. She could hear their shrill voices telling her to stop, but she ran on. Soon she saw that they were going faster than she, and had turned to the right, dashing away through the starlight. They looked like black specks on the white snow. For they had all left the darkness of the clump of fir-trees by this time, and the queer little men were plainly visible. Faster and faster she went; Wiggles rushing along in front of her, barking loudly. Soon she saw the barn glimmering dimly against the sky. Bab dashed toward it. The Brownies had disappeared; they must be already inside. “Oh, dear!” cried Bab. “I do so hope I shall get there in time to save that poor cow.” She had reached the barn, but the big door was shut and fastened. In despair Bab hunted for an opening of some sort, and finally found a low window. She clambered up, very much out of breath, and sat on the window-sill peering into the darkness of the barn. Everything inside was as black as ink, and smelled of saw-dust instead of hay. Where were the Brownies, and _where_ was the Wooden Cow? A sudden idea came to her. Leaning down, she whispered, “Wiggles, Wiggles, darling, jump!” Wiggles tried twice in vain. The third time he was in her lap, trembling with excitement. She lifted him down inside the barn, slipping down herself at the same time. “Now, Wiggles,” she said aloud, “_chase ’em!_” She clapped her hands as she spoke, and Wiggles’s scurrying, scratching feet were heard on the floor in the dark. Bab listened with a beating heart. Wiggles snuffed and snapped and scratched and scampered about, and finally gave an eager bark. At the same moment the air became filled with shrill little startled cries. “Don’t hurt them, Wiggles!” cried Bab. “Just chase them out!”