Ah, but Mammy had heard the first cry.  Straight over the fields she flew, leaping the stones and hummocks, fast as the wind, to save her baby.  She wasn’t a timid little cottontail rabbit then; she was a mother whose child was in danger.  And when she came to Raggylug and the big snake, she took one look, and then hop! hop! she went over the snake’s back; and as she jumped she struck at the snake with her strong hind claws so that they tore his skin.  He hissed with rage, but he did not let go.

Hop! hop! she went again, and this time she hurt him so that he twisted and turned; but he held on to Raggylug.

Once more the mother rabbit hopped, and once more she struck and tore the snake’s back with her sharp claws.  Zzz!  How she hurt!  The snake dropped Raggy to strike at her, and Raggy rolled on to his feet and ran.

“Run, Raggylug, run!” said his mother, keeping the snake busy with her jumps; and you may believe Raggylug ran!  Just as soon as he was out of the way his mother came too, and showed him where to go.  When she ran, there was a little white patch that showed under her tail; that was for Raggy to follow,—­he followed it now.

Far, far away she led him, through the long grass, to a place where the big snake could not find him, and there she made a new nest.  And this time, when she told Raggylug to lie low you’d better believe he minded!

THE GOLDEN COBWEBS[1]

A STORY TO TELL BY THE CHRISTMAS TREE

[Footnote 1:  This story was told me in the mother-tongue of a German friend, at the kindly instance of a common friend of both; the narrator had heard it at home from the lips of a father of story-loving children for whom he often invented such little tales.  The present adaptation has passed by hearsay through so many minds that it is perhaps little like the original, but I venture to hope it has a touch of the original fancy, at least.]

I am going to tell you a story about something wonderful that happened to a Christmas Tree like this, ever and ever so long ago, when it was once upon a time.

It was before Christmas, and the tree was trimmed with bright spangled threads and many-coloured candles and (name the trimmings of the tree before you), and it stood safely out of sight in a room where the doors were locked, so that the children should not see it before the proper time.  But ever so many other little house-people had seen it.  The big black pussy saw it with her great green eyes; the little grey kitty saw it with her little blue eyes; the kind house-dog saw it with his steady brown eyes; the yellow canary saw it with his wise, bright eyes.  Even the wee, wee mice that were so afraid of the cat had peeped one peep when no one was by.

But there was someone who hadn’t seen the Christmas tree.  It was the little grey spider!