'Eaten?' cried Baby Jane, choking with tears; and she slid over the Bear's shoulder into a heap upon the ground beside the imprisoned Rabbit, and struggled to force her little slim fingers between it and the great paw, and she succeeded. Perhaps the Bear was ashamed, and allowed it.
Then she hugged the rescued one close in her arms, with his fluffy head between her little motherly shoulder and neck, and, sobbing, rocked to and fro, making his drab fur quite draggled with her tear-drops.
'And he shall learn to dance—so he shall, the dear,' said Baby Jane when her sobs had died away into an occasional sniff, and her mind had turned to more cheerful ideas.
'Such a fuss about a Rabbit,' said the Bear under his breath. 'Why, I eat rabbits spread on my bread-and-butter like shrimps.'
Then, in a louder voice, he said sulkily—'Here comes the Lion: he looks as if he wanted to learn to dance.'
As a matter of fact, the Lion looked very cross.
'Mornin'!' said the Bear genially as he approached. 'We were just coming to teach you which hand to use when you say, "Howdy-doo," and how to play "Here we go Round the Mulberry Bush," and how to dance "Sir Roger de Coverley."'
The Lion could not speak for rage, but sharpened his claws once or twice on the sand and then charged.
It was a terrible struggle. The great beasts clutched one another round the waist and wrestled furiously. The Lion made frantic attempts to twist his leg between the Bear's two and so overthrow him, but the Bear was as firm as a rock.
Then the Lion let go, and, retreating for about thirty yards, flung himself from that distance at his enemy.