"Sprite Scalee! Ah! here you are!" cried the beetles as they caught sight of the fish poised above them. "Brownie Policy sent us down to tell you that he claims your service. He waits on the shore above. Good bye!" Up they went without more ado, and in a moment were again circling around upon the surface of the lake.
Scaly was not far behind them. Lazy as she looked, she could dart through the water like an arrow, and sooner than we tell it, had reached the bank and thrust her face close to the feet of the Corporal. Policy repeated his plan and got as hearty assent from Scaly as from Twist.
"What shall we do to support you?" asked Policy.
"Well, there's nothing very 'special," said Scaly, spitting out half a dozen mouthfuls of water. "The Natties had better follow up my attack in their own way. They'll not have much to do but gather up drowned Pixies, I reckon; or maybe capture some of their boats as the Stygies make off from their damaged ships."
The Sprite and the Corporal agreed upon the time for the attack, and thereupon Scaly turned, gave her tail a few self-satisfied flops, and dived out of sight.
The third party to the proposed alliance was Slymousie the Quadruped. "We shall find her in the field," said Corporal Policy, and sent off several men to hunt for her. The Brownies climbed the hill back of the Mansion and by and by found the cave, just on the edge of the orchard, where Mrs. Slymousie had her nest. It was quite hidden away beneath the overtopping meadow grass. A round bunch of chopped and twisted hay was balled up within it, which made it snug and warm. The Brownies swung themselves down by the grass blades and roots until they were well within the cave, when the Corporal called a halt and blew his bugle. There was much shrill squeaking down at the bottom of the nest, and a sudden rustling amid the dry upholstery, as the youngsters scampered away into hiding.
Once more Corporal Policy blew his bugle, and then called loudly: "Slymousie—hello! It's no one but I—the Brownie. Hello—come out and see the Brownie!"
At last a low, timid voice squeaked forth the question, "Who's there?"
"Corporal Policy the Brownie! Don't you know me?"
"Oh, yes! to be sure I know you now. But, dear me! you nearly frightened me into a fit. I thought it was Grimalkin the Housecat; or that miserable old Owl that nests in the hilltop wood. Are you sure—it's—only you?"