CHAPTER XIV.

THE GREAT BATTLE.

Early the same morning when Kapchack awoke, he was so much refreshed by

the sound slumber he had enjoyed, that much of his depression--the sharp

edge of his pain as it were--had passed away. The natural vivacity of

his disposition asserted itself, and seemed to respond to the glory of

the sunshine. Hungry from his long fast, away he flew to well-known

places reserved for his own especial feeding-ground, and having

satisfied his appetite went up into a hawthorn, trimmed his feathers,

and began to think things over.

He at once decided that something of an exceptional character must be

attempted in order to regain his authority. Half measures, delays, and

intrigues were now in vain; some grand blow must be struck, such as

would fill all hearts with admiration or dismay. Another treaty with

Choo Hoo was out of the question, for the overbearing rebel would throw

in his face the assassination of the envoy, and even could it be thought

of, who could he entrust with the mission? His throne was completely

surrounded with traitors. He ground his beak as he thought of them, and

resolved that terrible indeed should be the vengeance he would take if

once he got them again into his power. The hope of revenge was the

keenest spur of all to him to adventure something bold and unexpected;

the hope of revenge, and the determination that the house of Kapchack

should not fall without an effort worthy of a monarch.

He resolved to at once attack the mighty horde Choo Hoo commanded with

the only troops he could get quickly together in this emergency. These

were the rooks, the praetorian guard of his state, the faithful,

courageous, and warlike tenth legion of his empire. No sooner did he

thus finally resolve than his whole appearance seemed to change. His

outward form in some degree reflected the spirit within. His feathers

ruffled up, and their black and white shone with new colour. The glossy

green of his tail gleamed in the sunshine. One eye indeed was gone, but

the other sparkled with the fire of war; he scented the battle, and

sharpened his bill against the bough.

He only regretted that he had not taken this course before, instead of

idling in the palace, and leaving his kingdom to the wiles of traitorous

courtiers and delegates. If he had only bestirred himself like the

ancient Kapchack of former days this extremity would not have arisen.

Even yet it was not too late; war was a desperate and uncertain game,

and it was not always the greatest army, in point of numbers, that

rejoiced in the victory. He would trust in his fortune, and swoop down

upon the enemy. Calling to his body-guard, he flew at once straight

towards the plain, where, at that time in the morning, he knew the main

body of the rooks would be foraging. Full of these resolutions he did

not observe the maimed beetle lying helpless in the grass, but looking

neither to the right nor the left, taking counsel of no one--for to whom

could he apply for honest advice?--he winged his way swiftly onward.

In about half-an-hour he reached the plain, and saw the rooks scattered

over the ground; he rested here upon the lower branch of an elm, and

sent forward a messenger, one of the eight magpies who attended him, to

tell the commander-in-chief to wait upon him. Upon receiving the

message, the general, hoping that at last the king had decided upon

action, since so abrupt a summons to his side was somewhat unusual, flew

hastily to the elm and saluted the monarch. Kapchack, without any

preamble, announced his intention of forming the rooks into column, and

falling at once upon the horde of barbarians. In the rooks, he said, and

their loyal commander, lay the last hope of the state--he placed himself

in their midst and relied upon them solely and alone.

Ah Kurroo Khan, the commander-in-chief, could scarcely refrain from

shouting with delight. He was not only wild with the joy of coming

combat, but this straightforward speech and conduct went to his heart,

and never in all his long, long reign had Kapchack so complete and

autocratic an empire as at that moment over the rooks.

Ah Kurroo, when he had in some degree expressed his pleasure at these

commands, and the readiness with which he placed himself and his army

at Kapchack's orders, proceeded first to pass the word to the legions to

fall into their ranks, and next to inform the monarch of the position

held by the enemy.

They were, he said, dispersed in all directions foraging, and discipline

was much relaxed, insomuch that several bands of them had even fallen to

blows amongst themselves. To attack these scattered positions, which

could individually be easily overwhelmed, would be a mistake, for these

reasons. The advantage of destroying one or two such bands of marauders

would be practically nothing, and while it was being accomplished the

rest would carry the information to Choo Hoo, and he would assemble his

enormous horde. Thus the chance of surprising and annihilating his army

would be lost.

But it appeared that Choo Hoo's son, Tu Kiu, who was also the second in

command of the barbarians, finding that already the country was becoming

denuded of supplies close to the camp, had during the previous day, at

his father's orders, marched a large division--in itself an immense

army--into a plain at a few miles' distance, which was surrounded with

the hills, and out of sight from the camp. The best strategy therefore

open to Kapchack, was either to assail Choo Hoo's camp, or else to fall

upon the divisions of Tu Kiu.

The difficulty in the case of the camp was that amidst the trees the

assailants would suffer as much loss from crushing and confusion as

would be inflicted upon the enemy. It was impossible, when once

involved in a forest conflict, to know which way the issue was tending.

The battle became split up into a thousand individual combats,

discipline was of no avail, no officer could survey the scene or direct

the movements, and a panic at any moment was only too probable. On the

other hand, the division of Tu Kiu offered itself for annihilation. It

was not only several miles distant from the main body, but a range of

hills between prevented all view, and obstructed communication. There

was a route by which the plain could be approached, through a narrow

valley well sheltered with woods, which would screen the advancing

troops from sight, and enable them to debouch at once into the midst of

the invaders. Without doubt, thus suddenly attacked, Tu Kiu must give

way; should victory declare for them decisively, it was easy to foretell

what would happen. Tu Kiu falling back in disorder would confuse the

regiments of Choo Hoo coming to his assistance, a panic would arise, and

the incredible host of the barbarians would encumber each other's

flight.

Kapchack listened to the Khan with the deepest attention, approved of

all he had put forward, and gave the order to attack Tu Kiu.

Without a sound--for Ah Kurroo had strictly enjoined silence, lest the

unusual noise should betray that something was intended--the legions

fell into rank, and at the word of command, suppressing even the shout

of joy which they wished so much to utter, moved in a dense column to

the southwards. Kapchack, with his guards behind him, and Ah Kurroo

Khan at his side, led the van.

The Khan secretly congratulated himself as he flew upon his

extraordinary good fortune, that he should thus enter the field of

battle unhampered with any restrictions, and without the useless and

unpleasant companionship of a political officer, appointed by the

council of his nation. Well he knew that had Kapchack given the least

notice of his intention, the rook council would have assembled and held

interminable discussions upon the best method of carrying out the

proposed object, ending, as usual, with a vote in which mere numbers

prevailed, without any reference to reason or experience, and with the

appointment of a state official to overlook the conduct of the general,

and to see that he did not arrogate too much to himself.

Thus in fact the rooks were accustomed to act, lest a commander should

become too victorious. They liked indeed to win, and to destroy the

enemy, and to occupy his territory, but they did not like all this to be

accomplished by one man, but the rather, at the very zenith of his fame,

provided him with an opportunity for disgracing himself, so that another

might take his place and divide the glory. Ah Kurroo knew all this;

imagine, then, his joy that Kapchack without calling parliament together

had come direct to the camp, and ordered an immediate advance. Himself

choosing the route, trusting to no guides, not even to his own

intelligence department, Ah Kurroo pointed the way, and the legions

with steady and unvarying flight followed their renowned commander.

The noise of their wings resounded, the air was oppressed with their

weight and the mighty mass in motion. Then did Kapchack indeed feel

himself every feather a king. He glanced back--he could not see the

rear-guard, so far did the host extend. His heart swelled with pride and

eagerness for the fight. Now quitting the plain, they wound by a devious

route through the hills--the general's object being to so manage the

march that none of them should appear above the ridges. The woods upon

the slopes concealed their motions, and the advance was executed without

the least delay, though so great was their length in this extended order

that when the head of the column entered the plain beyond, the

rear-guard had not reached the hills behind. This rendered their front

extremely narrow, but Ah Kurroo, pausing when he had gone half-a-mile

into the plain, and when the enemy were already in sight, and actually

beneath them, ordered the leading ranks to beat time with their wings,

while their comrades came up.

Thus, in a few minutes, the place where the narrow valley debouched into

the hill-surrounded plain, was darkened with the deploying rooks.

Kapchack, while waiting, saw beneath him the hurrying squadrons of Tu

Kiu. From the cut corn, from the stubble, from the furrows (where

already the plough had begun its work), from the green roots and second

crops of clover, from the slopes of the hills around, and the distant

ridges, the alarmed warriors were crowding to their standards.

While peacefully foraging, happy in the sunshine and the abundance of

food, without a thought of war and war's hazards, they suddenly found

themselves exposed, all unprepared, to the fell assault of their black

and mortal enemies. The sky above them seemed darkened with the legions,

the hoarse shouts of command as the officers deployed their ranks, the

beating of the air, struck them with terror. Some, indeed, overwhelmed

with affright, cowered on the earth; a few of the outlying bands, who

had wandered farthest, turned tail and fled over the ridges. But the

majority, veterans in fight, though taken aback, and fully recognising

the desperate circumstances under which they found themselves, hastened

with all speed towards Tu Kiu, whose post was in a hedge, in which stood

three low ash-trees by a barn. This was about the centre of the plain,

and thither the squadrons and companies hurried, hoarsely shouting for

their general.

Tu Kiu, undismayed, and brave as became the son and heir of the mighty

Emperor Choo Hoo, made the greatest efforts to get them into some kind

of array and order. Most fell into rank of their own accord from long

use and habit, but the misfortune was that no sooner had one regiment

formed than fresh arrivals coming up threw all into disorder again. The

crowd, the countless multitude overwhelmed itself; the air was filled,

the earth covered, they struck against each other, and Tu Kiu, hoarse

with shouting, was borne down, and the branch of ash upon which he

stood broken with the weight of his own men. He struggled, he called, he

cried; his voice was lost in the din and clangour.

Ah Kurroo Khan, soaring with Kapchack, while the legions deployed,

marked the immense confusion of the enemy's centre. He seized the

moment, gave the command, and in one grand charge the whole army bore

swiftly down upon Tu Kiu. Kapchack himself could scarce keep pace with

the increasing velocity of the charge; he was wrapped, as it were,

around with the dense and serried ranks, and found himself hurled in a

moment into the heart of the fight. Fight, indeed, it could not be

called.

The solid phalanx of the rooks swept through the confused multitude

before them, by their mere momentum cutting it completely in two, and

crushing innumerable combatants underneath. In a minute, in less than a

minute, the mighty host of Tu Kiu, the flower of Choo Hoo's army, was

swept from the earth. He himself, wounded and half-stunned by the shock,

was assisted from the scene by the unwearied efforts of his personal

attendants.

Each tried to save himself regardless of the rest; the oldest veteran,

appalled by such utter defeat, could not force himself to turn again and

gather about the leaders. One mass of fugitives filled the air; the

slopes of the hills were covered with them. Still the solid phalanx of

Kapchack pressed their rear, pushing them before it.

Tu Kiu, who, weary and faint, had alighted for a moment upon an ancient

grass-grown earthwork--a memorial of former wars--which crowned a hill,

found it necessary to again flee with his utmost speed, lest he should

be taken captive.

It was now that the genius of Ah Kurroo Khan showed itself in its most

brilliant aspect. Kapchack, intoxicated with battle, hurried the legions

on to the slaughter--it was only by personal interference that the Khan

could restrain the excited king. Ah Kurroo, calm and far-seeing in the

very moment of victory, restrained the legions, held them in, and not

without immense exertion succeeded in checking the pursuit, and

retaining the phalanx in good order. To follow a host so completely

routed was merely to slay the slain, and to waste the strength that

might profitably be employed elsewhere. He conjectured that so soon as

ever the news reached Choo Hoo, the emperor, burning with indignation,

would arouse his camp, call his army together, and without waiting to

rally Tu Kiu's division, fly immediately to retrieve this unexpected

disaster. Thus, the victors must yet face a second enemy, far more

numerous than the first, under better generalship, and prepared for the

conflict.

Ah Kurroo was, even now, by no means certain of the ultimate result. The

rooks, indeed, were flushed with success, and impelled with all the

vigour of victory; their opponents, however brave, must in some degree

feel the depression attendant upon serious loss. But the veterans with

Choo Hoo not only outnumbered them, and could easily outflank or

entirely surround, but would also be under the influence of his personal

leadership. They looked upon Choo Hoo, not as their king, or their

general only, but as their prophet, and thus the desperate valour of

fanaticism must be reckoned in addition to their natural courage.

Instead, therefore, of relying simply upon force, Ah Kurroo, even in the

excitement of the battle, formed new schemes, and aimed to out-general

the emperor.

He foresaw that Choo Hoo would at once march to the attack, and would

come straight as a line to the battle-field. His plan was to wheel

round, and, making a detour, escape the shock of Choo Hoo's army for the

moment, and while Choo Hoo was looking for the legions that had

overthrown his son, to fall upon and occupy his undefended camp. He was

in hopes that when the barbarians found their rear threatened, and their

camp in possession of the enemy, a panic would seize upon them.

Kapchack, when he had a little recovered from the frenzy of the fray,

fully concurred, and without a minute's delay Ah Kurroo proceeded to

carry out this strategical operation. He drew off the legions for some

distance by the same route they had come, and then, considering that he

had gone far enough to avoid Choo Hoo, turned sharp to the left, and

flew straight for the emperor's camp, sheltered from view on the side

towards it by a wood, and in front by an isolated hill, also crowned

with trees. Once over that hill, and Choo Hoo's camp must inevitably

fall into their hands. With swift, steady flight, the dark legions

approached the hill, and were now within half-a-mile of it, when to Ah

Kurroo's surprise and mortification the van-guard of Choo Hoo appeared

above it, advancing directly upon them.

When the fugitives from the field of battle reached Choo Hoo, he could

at first scarce restrain his indignation, for he had deemed the treaty

in full force; he exclaimed against the perfidy of a Power which called

itself civilised and reproached his host as barbarians, yet thus

violated its solemn compacts. But recognising the gravity of the

situation, and that there was no time to waste in words, he gave orders

for the immediate assembly of his army, and while the officers carried

out his command flew to a lofty fir to consider a few moments alone upon

the course he should take.

He quickly decided that to attempt to rally Tu Kiu's division would be

in vain; he did not even care to protect its retreat, for as it had been

taken so unawares, it must suffer the penalty of indiscretion. To march

straight to the field of battle, and to encounter a solid phalanx of the

best troops in the world, elated with victory, and led by a general like

Ah Kurroo, and inspired, too, by the presence of their king, while his

own army was dispirited at this unwonted reverse, would be courting

defeat. He resolved to march at once, but to make a wide detour, and so

to fall upon the rooks in their rear while they were pursuing Tu Kiu.

The signal was given, and the vast host set out.

Thus the two generals, striving to outwit each other, suddenly found

themselves coming into direct collision. While fancying that they had

arranged to avoid each other, they came, as it were, face to face, and

so near, that Choo Hoo, flying at the head of his army, easily

distinguished King Kapchack and the Khan. It seemed now inevitable that

sheer force must decide between them.

But Choo Hoo, the born soldier, no sooner cast his keen glance over the

fields which still intervened, than he detected a fatal defect in

Kapchack's position. The rooks, not expecting attack, were advancing in

a long dense column, parallel with, and close to, a rising ground, all

along the summit of which stood a row of fine beech-trees. Quick as

thought, Choo Hoo commanded his centre to slacken their speed while

facing across the line the rooks were pursuing. At the same time he sent

for his left to come up at the double in extended order, so as to

outflank Ah Kurroo's column, and then to push it, before it could

deploy, bodily, and by mere force of numbers, against the beeches, where

their wings entangled and their ranks broken by the boughs they must

become confused. Then his right, coming up swiftly, would pass over, and

sweep the Khan's disordered army before it.

This manoeuvre, so well-conceived, was at once begun. The barbarian

centre slackened over the hill, and their left, rushing forward,

enclosed Ah Kurroo's column, and already bore down towards it, while the

noise of their right could be heard advancing towards the beeches above,

and on the other side of which it would pass. Ah Kurroo saw his

danger--he could discover no possible escape from the trap in which he

was caught, except in the desperate valour of his warriors. He shouted

to them to increase their speed, and slightly swerving to his right,

directed his course straight towards Choo Hoo himself. Seeing his

design--to bear down the rebel emperor, or destroy him before the battle

could well begin--Kapchack shouted with joy, and hurried forward to be

the first to assail his rival.

Already the advancing hosts seemed to feel the shock of the combat, when

a shadow fell upon them, and they observed the eclipse of the sun. Till

that moment, absorbed in the terrible work they were about, neither the

rank and file nor the leaders had noticed the gradual progress of the

dark semicircle over the sun's disk. The ominous shadow fell upon them,

still more awful from its suddenness. A great horror seized the serried

hosts. The prodigy in the heavens struck the conscience of each

individual; with one consent they hesitated to engage in carnage with so

terrible a sign above them.

In the silence of the pause they heard the pheasants crow, and the fowls

fly up to roost; the lesser birds hastened to the thickets. A strange

dulness stole over their senses, they drooped, as it were; the

barbarians sank to the lower atmosphere; the rooks, likewise overcome

with this mysterious lassitude, ceased to keep their regular ranks, and

some even settled on the beeches.

Choo Hoo himself struggled in vain against the omen; his mighty mind

refused to succumb to an accident like this; but his host was not so

bold of thought. With desperate efforts he managed indeed to shake off

the physical torpor which endeavoured to master him; he shouted

"Koos-takke!" but for the first time there was no response. The

barbarians, superstitious as they were ignorant, fell back, and lost

that unity of purpose which is the soul of an army. The very

superstition and fanaticism which had been his strength was now Choo

Hoo's weakness. His host visibly melted before his eyes; the vast mass

dissolved; the ranks became mixed together, without order or cohesion.

Rage overpowered him; he stormed; he raved till his voice from the

strain became inaudible. The barbarians were cowed, and did not heed

him.

The rooks, less superstitious, because more civilised, could not,

nevertheless, view the appearance of the sun without dismay, but as

their elders were accustomed to watch the sky, and to deduce from its

aspect the proper time for nesting, they were not so over-mastered with

terror as the enemy; but they were equally subjected by the mysterious

desire of rest which seized upon them. They could not advance; they

could scarce float in the air; some, as already observed, sought the

branches of the beeches. Ah Kurroo, however, bearing up as well as he

could against this strange languor, flew to and fro along the disordered

ranks, begging them to stand firm, and at least close up if they could

not advance, assuring them that the shadow would shortly pass, and that

if they could only retain their ranks victory was certain, for the

barbarians were utterly demoralised.

The drowsy rooks mechanically obeyed his orders, they closed their ranks

as well as they could; they even feebly cheered him. But more than this

they could not do. Above them the sun was blotted out, all but a rim of

effulgent light, from which shone forth terrible and threatening flames.

Some whispered that they saw the stars. Suddenly while they gazed,

oppressed with awe, the woods rang with a loud cry, uttered by Kapchack.

The king, excited beyond measure, easily withstood the slumberous

heaviness which the rest could scarce sustain. He watched the efforts of

the Khan with increasing impatience and anger. Then seeing that although

the army closed up it did not move, he lost all control of himself. He

shouted his defiance of the rebels before him, and rushed alone--without

one single attendant--across the field towards Choo Hoo. In amazement at

his temerity, the rooks watched him as if paralysed for a moment. Choo

Hoo himself could scarce face such supernatural courage; when suddenly

the rooks, as if moved by one impulse, advanced. The clangour of their

wings resounded, a hoarse shout arose from their throats, they strained

every nerve to overtake and assist their king.

Kapchack, wild with desperate courage, was within twenty yards of Choo

Hoo, when the dense column of his own army passed him and crushed into

the demoralised multitude of the enemy, as a tree overthrown by the

wind crushes the bushes beneath it. Kapchack himself whirled round and

round, and borne he knew not whither, scarce recognised whom he struck,

but wreaked his vengeance till his sinews failed him, and he was forced

to hold from sheer weariness. It is not possible to describe the scene

that now took place. The whole plain, the woods, the fields, were hidden

with the hurrying mass of the fugitives, above and mixed with whom the

black and terrible legions dealt destruction.

Widening out as it fled, the host of Choo Hoo was soon scattered over

miles of country. None stayed to aid another; none even asked the other

the best route to a place of safety; all was haste and horror. The

pursuit, indeed, only ended with evening; for seven long hours the

victors sated their thirst for slaughter, and would hardly have stayed

even then had not the disjointed and weary fragments of Choo Hoo's army

found some refuge now in a forest.

Choo Hoo himself only escaped from the ruck by his extraordinary

personal strength; once free from the confused mass, his speed, in which

he surpassed all the barbarians, enabled him to easily avoid capture.

But as he flew his heart was dead within him, for there was no hope of

retrieving this overwhelming disaster.

Meantime King Kapchack, when compelled by sheer physical weariness to

fall out from the pursuit, came down and rested upon an oak. While he

sat there alone and felt his strength returning, the sun began to come

forth again from the shadow, and to light up the land with renewed

brilliance. His attendants, who had now discovered his whereabouts,

crowding round him with their congratulations, seized upon this

circumstance as a fortunate omen. The dark shadow, they said, was past;

like the sun, Kapchack had emerged to shine brighter than before. For

once, indeed, the voice of flattery could not over-estimate the

magnitude of this glorious victory.

It utterly destroyed the invading host, which for years had worked its

way slowly into the land. It destroyed the prestige of Choo Hoo; never

again would his race regard him as their invincible chief. It raised the

reputation of King Kapchack to the skies. It crushed all domestic

treason with one blow. If Kapchack was king before, now he was

absolutely autocratic.

Where now was Ki Ki, the vainglorious hawk who had deemed that without

his aid nothing could be accomplished? Where the villainous crow, the

sombre and dark designing Kauc, whose murderous poniard would be thrust

into his own breast with envy? Where the cunning weasel, whose intrigues

were swept away like spiders' webs? Where were they all? They were

utterly at Kapchack's mercy. Mercy indeed! at his _mercy_--their instant

execution was already certain. His body-guard, crowding about him,

already began the paean.

He set out to return to his palace, flushed with a victory of which

history furnishes no parallel. It would have been well if he had

continued in this intention to at once return, summon his council, and

proclaim the traitors. Had he gone direct thither he must have met Eric,

the missel-thrush, who alone was permitted to frequent the orchard.

Eric, alarmed at seeing a stranger in the orchard, and at the

unprecedented circumstance of his ascending the ladder into the

apple-tree, had started away to find the king, and warn him that

something unusual was happening, and not to return till the coast was

clear. He had not yet heard of the battle, or rather double battle that

morning, nor did he know which way Kapchack had gone, but he considered

that most probably the woodpecker could tell him, and therefore flew

direct towards the copse to inquire.

If Kapchack had continued his flight straight to his palace he would

have passed over the copse, and the missel-thrush would have seen him

and delivered his message. But as he drew near home Kapchack saw the

clump of trees which belonged to Ki Ki not far distant upon his right.

The fell desire of vengeance seized upon him; he turned aside, intending

to kill Ki Ki with his own beak, but upon approaching nearer he saw that

the trees were vacant. Ki Ki, indeed, had had notice of the victory from

his retainers soaring in the air, and guessing that the king's first

step would be to destroy him, had instantly fled. Kapchack, seeing that

the hawk was not there, again pursued his return journey, but meantime

the missel-thrush had passed him.

The king was now within a few hundred yards of his fortress, the dome of

his palace was already visible, and the voices of his attendants rose

higher and higher in their strain of victory. The missel-thrush had seen

the woodpecker, who informed him that Kapchack had just passed, and like

the wind he rushed back to the orchard. But all the speed of his wings

was in vain, he could not quite overtake the monarch; he shouted, he

shrieked, but the song of triumph drowned his cries. Kapchack was close

to the wall of the orchard.

At the same time Bevis, not caring much about the locket or the letter,

or the old gentleman (whose history he had not yet heard), while his

papa spoke to, and aroused the old gentleman from his swoon, had slipped

back towards the orchard-gate where was an irresistible attraction. This

was the sportsman's double-barrelled gun, leant there against a tree. He

could scarce keep his hands off it; he walked round it; touched it;

looked about to see if any one was watching, and was just on the point

of taking hold of it, when the old gentleman rushed past, but seeing the

gun, stopped and seized it. Finding, however, that it was not loaded, he

threw it aside, and went on towards the house. In a minute he returned

with the long single-barrelled gun, with which, so many years before, he

had vowed to shoot his rival.

He had heard the magpie returning, and mad with anger--since it was the

magpie's theft which had thus destroyed the happiness of his life, for

all might have been well had he had the letter--he hastened for his

gun. As he came to the orchard-gate, Kapchack, with his followers behind

him, neared the wall. The avenger looked along his gun, pulled the

trigger, and the report echoed from the empty, hollow house. His aim was

uncertain in the agony of his mind, and even then Kapchack almost

escaped, but one single pellet, glancing from the bough of an

apple-tree, struck his head, and he fell with darkness in his eyes.

The old gentleman rushed to the spot, he beat the senseless body with

the butt of his gun till the stock snapped; then he jumped on it, and

stamped the dead bird into a shapeless remnant upon the ground. At this

spectacle Bevis, who, although he was always talking of shooting and

killing, could not bear to see anything really hurt, burst out into a

passion of tears, lamenting the magpie, and gathering up some of the

feathers. Nor could they pacify him till they found him a ripe and

golden King Pippin apple to eat.

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