Wee Timrous Beasties | Page 2

gentle
side-shifts. Then he brought his tongue into play as a lubricant. Then he
simply pulled. By this time he was fairly awake and could feel.
It was unfortunate that a door banged above him, for, mouse-like, he
leapt forward with all his leaping strength. The leap freed him, but at a
price, and the price was his tail, or, rather, all that made a tail worth
having. For the first half-inch it proceeded soundly enough, a series of
neat, over-lapping, down-covered scale-rings, then, for the next
two-and-three-quarter inches it presented all the naked hideousness of
an X-ray photograph. It was not so much the pain he minded as the
indignity, and he surveyed himself with gloomy disgust. There was,
however, just a grain of consolation. With an imprisoned tail, escape
was impossible. Now that he was free to move, there was surely a
chance of squeezing through those bars. He must take heart and gird
himself for the struggle. No mouse, however, if he can help it, enters
upon a serious undertaking ungroomed. So he sat back on his hind legs
and commenced an elaborate toilet. First he licked his tiny hands and
worked them like lightning across and down his face. This he continued
for a full minute, until his whiskers bristled like tiny needles, without a
speck of dust throughout their length. Then he combed the matted fur
of his waistcoat with his teeth, and smoothed and polished it until every
hair was a gleaming strand of silk. Finally he turned his attention to his
back and sides, twisting his body cat-fashion to reach the remoter
portions of himself.
Once, in the middle of his operations, he stopped with a jerk and sat up
motionless, save for a tremulous quiver of his muzzle. There was
certainly something moving close at hand. Long before the faint
vibration had reached his ears, his whiskers had caught it and flashed
their danger-signal to his brain. It was only a cockroach, however. As it
came in sight, he snapped at it viciously through the bars, and squeaked
at its precipitate flight. Not that he grudged it the cheese crumbs, but
his nerves were on edge, and it had frightened him.

[Illustration: IT WAS ONLY A COCKROACH, HOWEVER.]
Body, head, and feet alike, were sleek and resplendent before he caught
a glimpse of his disreputable tail. He was dubious as to whether
polishing would have any beneficial effect on its appearance; but the
stump, at any rate, must be healed, and to do this he set to work with
nature's remedy. Taking the stripped portion in his fore-paws--for, to
his astonishment, he found that he could not move it otherwise--he
pulled it gently between his hind legs up to his mouth. It parted like a
pack-thread. Somehow he felt indifferent. A rigid, lifeless tail was little
use, after all. He was bound to lose it sooner or later, and he was too
old to care what the other mice might think. Besides, as the father of a
hundred and fifty, he was surely entitled to set the fashion. He licked
the stump until it felt easy, shook himself once or twice, gave his
whiskers a final polish, and prepared to walk out.
He felt sleek enough to squeeze through anything--confident, too,
though just a trifle thirsty. It must have been the cheese, for the hot
taste still lingered in his mouth, and he loathed the sight of the
remaining fragments. He flicked them into a corner and carefully
surveyed his position. The bars stretched at even intervals, above and in
front. He tried each one separately and found that, with one exception,
they were fixed and immovable. The exception was number three from
the front above him. It was easily distinguishable from the others, for a
curved wire swung free from its centre. When he gripped his fore-paws
round it, he felt it twist in its sockets. Why did that curved wire rattle
about when he touched it? Those from which he had stolen so many
dainty morsels in the past had seemed fixtures. Perhaps he had gone too
recklessly to work this time. He had certainly been extremely hungry.
Anyhow, the bar from which it hung was loose--he would work that
clear of the wood in no time, and so gain freedom.
[Illustration: HE TRIED EACH BAR SEPARATELY.]
He raised himself on his hind legs and commenced gnawing vigorously
at the socket-hole. The position was a terribly strained one, and time
after time his teeth slipped and met with a scrunching jar upon the
metal.

Then he leaped up and swung head downwards, gripping the bars with
all four feet. In this position he could at least nip the cross-piece, and
worry it with his teeth. Every muscle of his small body was