before the ranks of the Philistines; and the Snoodle was dancing around him in an ecstasy of anticipation.  Though he was so excited, he looked so good-natured that Sara could not believe that he wished to harm even these fierce-looking brutes; indeed, there was a sort of resemblance between them, except for the expression.  And, as she thought that, it flashed into Sara’s mind that the Snoodle did not really want to hurt them, at all, but only to embrace them!  So she ran forward and cried to the excited populace (who were spinning this way and that, wildly coiling and uncoiling their springs and crying, “What in butter shall we do?),

“He won’t hurt them—­he won’t hurt them!  He only wants to embrace them!  He thinks they’re his relatives—­his father was a noodle!”

At this the people grew calmer, and began to gather around her head, asking cautious questions.  The caterpillars did not seem to understand, and looked as frightened and agitated as ever; for Sara was unconsciously speaking the butterfly language, and the caterpillars spoke a different dialect.

“Give me a chance to prove my theory!” continued Sara, in the butterfly language.  “Here, Snoodle!” she called, soothingly.  “Here—­Horn-Devil!” It took a great deal of courage for Sara to speak soothingly to the giant caterpillar; but you see the butterfly people were beginning to think her a very wise, brave person, and that made it rather necessary for her to be one.  So she gave a little gulp which the spectators took for a sign of bravery, and drawing nearer by inches, actually laid her hand on the rearing, plunging, panic-stricken creature!  He lurched and snorted terribly when her hand first touched him, but as he did nothing worse, Sara grew braver and more hopeful, and began to pat and stroke him and say soothing words.  Of course he could not understand the words, but he seemed to understand the tone, for presently he stopped rearing, and at last stood quite quiet, only breathing hard and trembling a little.

“Now, Snoodle, come here!” cried Sara, nerving herself for the supreme test of her theory.

The Snoodle sprang forward at the word, and, as Sara had foretold, threw his paws about the Horn-Devil’s neck.  The Horn-Devil sprang into the air, making a sort of wild, whinnying sound (the only sound Sara ever heard, then or afterward, from a caterpillar); but as Sara patted him kindly and the Snoodle only wagged himself ecstatically, he grew quiet again, and allowed himself to be hugged without further protest.  Then the Snoodle, having finished his embrace, released his long-lost relative and sat down on his long hinder-parts, looking about at the spectators with an air that said, “There!  I’m satisfied!  I didn’t do any harm, did I?”