"Death and terror on the land!" prophesied the lion.
"Death and terror on the sea!" promised the great white bear.
"My dears, will you let me put sense at you? Will you listen to me a moment?" the angel pleaded. "'T is for your own sakes I ask. Will you just listen?
"What will become of you if you do all this?
"Don't you know that man will come against you with all his weapons and mechanical contrivances, his poison gas and his torpedoes, and wipe you off the face of your own earth? Childer dear, you have no idea of the terrible fellow he is at all. Myself, angel and all as I am, when I see some of those fellows coming hell-for-leather in their motor-cars, I leap like a hare out of their way, I do so. And oftentimes I 'm shaking in the legs for hours after it. I don't mind telling you. He 'll kill you surely, childer dear."
"He 'll kill us anyway," fluted the elephant. "What matter to-day or to-morrow or a century from now? We die. What of the Irish elk, with horns like banners, so proud in his green pastures? What of the great buffalo, lord of the plains?—where is he? If we die, let us die together, fighting shoulder to shoulder!"
"Besides, maybe it's worse than man you 'd have."
"What is worse than man?"
"Maybe God Himself would come down against you, maybe," the angel's voice falls to a sacred whisper; "maybe He will uncover His face!"
There is a movement of awe, or terror among the animals. The silent multitude back of the speakers rustles like leaves. The lion speaks: