them at once; they were the two policemen rats who had followed them all along. They looked bigger and fiercer than ever. On they came, their whiskers twitching, their hind legs stretched behind, and within a few inches of Jensina they paused, sat up, and waited.
Jensina began to speak in the rat language, slowly at first, and then more rapidly. The rats nodded. Jensina pointed down the garden. The rats nodded again. She raised her hand, and the watchers could see distinctly the silver-paper shining in the moonlight.
The rats saw it too; one of them took a step forward, but with a swift gesture Jensina warned him back. Still holding the Tooth, she repeated, very slowly and distinctly, every word that she had said before, pausing every now and then to think whether she had left anything out.
The rats nodded once more, and now their faces were pleased and friendly. The fattest rat bowed. Then, while Poor Cecco fairly held his breath with suspense he came forward, and stretching out his paw politely took from Jensina’s hand the Tooth. Placing it in his mouth, he made one leap, and where he went does not matter, for he vanishes from this story forever, and the tooth with him.
Instantly there was a scuffling and squeaking. From every bush, from every patch of shadow, rats appeared. Grey rats, brown rats, old and young, dozens and dozens of them. Bulka gave a squeal of fright, but this time the
