“I have conquered the ogre!” cried Tiny in delight, whirling the dart about in the air. “I am glad that I took the wise owl’s advice.”
Still carrying the dart, or quill, that he had wrested from the porcupine, he groped his way back to the path.
Soon the rays of the moon made everything as bright as day. He had not gone far when he saw to the left a deep, dark jungle, concerning which the owl prophet had spoken.
“It is a dismal place after night,” he said, “but I must go into the jungle as I have promised to do. I shall use the dart to protect myself.”
With some difficulty he entered the damp place, without thought of the terrible fright that awaited him.
CHAPTER IX.
Deeper and deeper Tiny wandered into the heart of the jungle. It was very damp and chilly as well as ghostly. His hunting bag was heavy, but he did not lose heart.
He had heard that fairy princesses with torches often came to the aid of good squirrels that were in trouble. He wished that they would come to help him. But the dark trees and bushes looked like frightful hiding places for foxes and other mischievous animals. He grew more and more alarmed. Finally he halted at the foot of a pine tree.