They came flying in pursuit.
The Light-Horsemen heard the sound of galloping feet behind them, and the rear-guard, turning his head, gave a howl of horror. The tables were turned; instead of lunching on Baby Jane, they themselves would now adorn the festive board. Wildly they thrashed the Light-Horse, but it was of no use, the galloping Lion was close upon their heels.
Then, as the sledge traveller throws out his companions one by one to the pursuing wolves, the Light-Horsemen began by throwing out Baby Jane.
In a moment she felt herself whisked into the furry arms of the Bear, and nursed and petted as gently as if it had been by Nurse herself.
When she felt better and looked round, the Cannibal Light-Horsemen had disappeared, and the Light-Horse was sitting on a stone fanning herself with a palm-leaf. As the Crocodile and the Lion, both looking quiet and sleepy, came up to inquire if Baby Jane was unhurt, the Bear, who was rocking her to and fro, whispered bitterly to them, 'Well, you are pigs. You might have left me a little one.'
It was a long time before Baby Jane had any heart to play again. It was so nice to shut her eyes and sniff away the last trace of tears, lying contentedly against the silky coat of the old Bear.
But after a while she began to brighten up and to make friends with the Light-Horse, who was a nice animal, though she wore such a dreary expression.
'I daresay you are tired,' she said kindly; 'so I will tell you what we will do next. We will make a "Tableau Vivant." We shall only have to stay still in that.'
The creatures all were delighted with the idea, and the Bear retired once more to his treasure-store for odds and ends of clothes to dress up in.