On the fifth night of that week when the pick! pick! as of iron upon stone began, the princess went to the window and whispered sadly: “I cannot keep heart much longer,” and the low, muffled voice of the gray owl answered: “Courage! keep a good heart for one day more.”
Upon the sixth day there was a dark tempest. Even at high noon the dungeon was dark. The gray squirrel looked wet and discouraged when he sprang in through the window at the usual time.
“Do you think the gray owl is going to save me?” asked the princess in her despair.
At the mention of the gray owl, the squirrel jumped for the window, but it was so dark in the dungeon that he bumped into the wall and fell upon the stone floor.
He held up a hurt front paw as Katrina ran to him. “Will you bind it with silk for me?” he asked. “Elf will mend it when I go to him, elf will mend it. But I shall have to stay with you now, because I cannot jump—nor even walk,” he said, trying to rise but falling over again.
Katrina bound the wounded paw tenderly. All that afternoon the squirrel seemed to be thinking deeply, and Katrina could not make him talk.
Utter darkness fell early. The dungeon grew very cold, so that both Katrina and the squirrel shivered. She wrapped herself in the scarlet and gold tapestry, took the squirrel in her hands, and crouched near the window.
Soon came a stir in the leaves outside. “Are you there, Princess?” asked the muffled voice. Katrina felt the squirrel begin to tremble violently.
“Yes, Gray Owl,” she answered, waiting for him to say, “Keep a good heart.” But instead, he said: “Prepare to leave the dungeon, Princess. Stand away from the window, for soon a large stone of the wall will fall into the dungeon.”
Katrina moved to the opposite side, having hard work to keep the squirrel in her hands; he acted so frightened that she knew now it had been fear, not anger, which made him run away every time the owl’s name was mentioned.