It made a loop about the buttonless shoes—­a loop that tightened as the little old gentleman came short, as the Piper halted.  Each gave a pull—­

With disastrous result!  For as the line came taut, up Jane went!—­caught bodily from the ground.  And still spinning, whizzed forward in that high wind and struck the granite squarely.

She fell to the ground, toppling sidewise, and bulking large.

But the shaft!  It began to move—­slowly at first—­to tip forward, farther and farther.  When, gaining velocity, with a great grinding noise, down from off the massive cube upon which it stood it came crashing!

Instantly a chorus of cries arose:  “Oh, she’s bumped over the obelisk!  She’s bumped over the obelisk!”

With the cries, and sounding from beneath the tapered end of the Big Rock, mingled ferocious growls—­“Rar!  Rar!  Rar!  Rar!”

And in that same moment, the four who were holding the rope felt it begin to writhe and twist in their grasp!—­like a live thing.  And its black length took on a scaly look, glittering in that pink glow as if it were covered with small ebon paillettes.  It grew cold and clammy.  At its thicker end Gwendolyn saw that the Piper was supporting a head—­a head with small, fiery eyes and a tongue flame-like in its color and swift darting.  Next, “Hiss-s-s-s-s!” And with one hideous contortion, the huge black body wrung itself free and coiled.

Once Gwendolyn had boasted that she was not afraid of snakes.  And now she did not flee, though the black coils were piled at her very feet.  For she recognized the serpent.  There was no mistaking that thin face and those small eyes.  Moreover, a pocket-handkerchief was bound round the reptilian jaws and tied at the top of the head in a bow-knot.

She had gotten rid of Thomas.  But here was Miss Royle!

There was no time for greetings.  Again were sounding those furious growls—­“Rar!  Rar!  Rar!”

Jane swung round in a half-circle to warn the governess.  “It’s that Bear!” she hummed.  “Can’t you drive him away?”

Miss Royle began to uncoil.

The Policeman was tick-tocking up and down.  “The Den’s damaged!” he lamented.

“Now, who’s goin’ to pay?” demanded the Piper.

“I’m afraid the Bear’s hurt,” declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.

In her eagerness to trip Jane, Gwendolyn had utterly forgotten the Bear’s Den.  Now she saw it—­a large cage, light in color, its bars woven closely together.  And she saw too—­with horror—­that what the Policeman said was true:  In falling, the Big Rock had broken the cover of the Den.  This cover was flopping up and down on its hinges.

“Oh, he’s loose!” she gasped.

“Rar!  Rar!  Rar-r-r!”

The Bear himself was knocking the cover into the air.  The top of his head could be seen as he hopped about, evidently in pain.