"Now is your chance," whispered Daimur, and sword in hand he went softly across the floor, closely followed by Queen Amy.
As they passed the cat he opened one of his green eyes and looked at them, but they did not notice him. As soon as they were out of the room and into the hall he sat up on the mat and began to yowl in a most blood-curdling manner.
"We are lost," said the Queen, wringing her hands. "Listen to that cat. We must have awakened him. He is calling the Old Witch I am sure."
"Run," said Daimur, and seizing Queen Amy by the hand he almost dragged her along the wide hall towards the staircase. But they were too late.
Down the stairs came the Old Witch, followed by her daughter and the other witch from Shells.
At the sight of Daimur with his sword drawn and the terrified Queen Amy shrinking at his side the Old Witch gave a howl of rage and said something quickly to the others.
Instantly three great tigers were bounding towards them, their teeth showing in a dreadful manner, and their deep growls filling the whole hall.
Thrusting Queen Amy behind him Daimur clutched his sword in despair and set his teeth with a determination to kill them all if possible—when suddenly he thought of the tiny silver bugle which he had had around his neck all the time.
Raising it quickly to his lips he blew three times upon it. The faint sound it made was not heard amid the terrible roaring of the tigers, but before he had finished the last blast there stood in front of him three giants, so tall that their heads almost touched the high ceiling, and that was more than ten feet. They were dressed like Roman soldiers and each carried a huge flat sword.
"The tigers. Kill the tigers!" cried Daimur.