And all the while Miss Crocodile calmly sat and smiled, and never budged.

Why? Because she had anch.o.r.ed the end of her tail to a stout young palm tree, and it would have needed a steam-engine to 'gather' her.

Even after this, the creatures were eager for more, and Baby Jane thought of 'Hide-and-Seek.'

She would go and hide, and they would sit in a row with their eyes tight shut while they counted sixty.

She ran off as fast as she could over a little hillock, so that the animals could no longer see her, even if they were unfair enough to open their eyes, and towards a clump of trees that looked like a capital hiding-place.

She little thought into what terrible danger she was running.

On she went till she had reached the corner of the little wood. There, behind it, she saw with startled eyes a horde of mounted Cannibals lying in wait.

For the first moment she thought she could dart back behind the trees, but no, they had caught sight of her, and with a horrible sound of smacking of lips the cloud of Light-Hors.e.m.e.n swept towards her. She noticed that they had only one Horse, but he was densely crowded with a villainous crew of blacks, and then, as they rushed upon her brandishing their spear, she clasped her hand over her eyes.

The next moment she was seized roughly and swung high into the air and on to the shoulder of a Cannibal, and then she felt the Horse turn and gallop madly--as madly as could be expected of an animal so overcrowded--across the desert, and away from her dear creatures still sitting in a row with their eyes tight shut behind the hillock. Oh, it was dreadful! Her plan had just begun to succeed, and her animals were growing more and more kind and happy, and now it was all over.

Poor Crocodile and Lion, they would miss her dreadfully and have nothing to do but go back to the old, bad, miserable ways. Poor dear old Bear, he would cry. And here Baby Jane herself began to cry loudly, hopelessly.

After a while she tried to stifle her sobs and to speak coaxingly to the n.i.g.g.e.r who carried her, but he took no notice.

There was evidently no hope, and she began to think whether she would rather be a cutlet dressed in egg and bread-crumbs with little paper frills round her ankles and wrists--or soup.

Suddenly she heard a faint sound more beautiful to her than the silver music of fairy bells. It was the roar of a Lion.

Ah, there they were! Over a sandy wave they came flying in pursuit. The Lion, ridden by the Piccaninny, sped across the desert with huge bounds, and dust and stones shot up wherever his flying feet struck the sand; away to the right, with his head and tail up, the Crocodile was bouncing bravely along, the Rabbit, who rode her, b.u.mping sky-high; and close behind the Lion strode the Bear, leaping bushes and bamboos as if he were running a hurdle-race.

[Ill.u.s.tration: They came flying in pursuit.]

The Light-Hors.e.m.e.n 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-Hors.e.m.e.n 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-Hors.e.m.e.n 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.

'The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots' was the subject chosen, and it was a dreadfully real and touching picture that they made.

The Bear was Queen Mary; his sweet, sad, resigned air, and his little lace handkerchief, wet with tears, would have moved any heart less stony than Queen Elizabeth's, but she sat in the background and smiled triumphantly.

The Crocodile was Queen Elizabeth--chosen for the part because her mouth was best for smiling.

The Rabbit, with his head tucked in and his legs out stiff, was the block, and the Piccaninny the executioner, with a horrid scowl and a large axe. Behind the Queen came her weeping ladies, the 'Queen's Maries.' Baby Jane, the Lion, and the Light-Horse were all 'Queen's Maries.' The Lion looked especially well with his mane done up in a chignon. He said he was Mary Beaton, and the Light-Horse was Mary Carmichael.

It was not till they had posed stiffly for a quarter of an hour that they remembered that there was no audience to tell them by the clapping of hands when it had had enough.

'Next time,' said the sharp Rabbit, 'we'll get a lot of tortoises and turn them on their backs so that they can't run away, and make them look on and clap.'

'But they will see everything upside down,' said the Lion.

'And we'll have to act on our heads to make it right,' said the Light-Horse gloomily.

'Oh, we won't bother about that,' said the inventor of the plan. 'They will be there just to clap, and they won't be turned right side up until they do clap.'

And this was the end of Baby Jane's lessons for that day.

CHAPTER III

SANTA CLAUS

They had just finished a hearty breakfast, of which home-made pineapple jam and the crisp, crusty rolls that grow on a certain palm had formed a part, when Baby Jane suddenly remarked:

'I do believe it's Christmas Eve!'

The creatures had no idea what that meant, but they knew when she spoke in that way there was more fun coming, and they eagerly crowded round her to hear about it.

'And now,' she went on, 'as it is Christmas Eve, to-night we must all hang up our stockings, and Santa Claus will come and fill them with presents.'

The creatures set up a shout of delight, and catching one another round the waist danced a wild polka round Baby Jane.

All of a sudden they stopped as if turned into statues; a chilly silence fell upon them, and they looked aghast into each other's eyes.

Then the Light-Horse, looking in her horror-stricken paleness more like a night-mare, whispered to Baby Jane, 'But we don't wear stockings!'

'Oh, that's all right,' she said; 'I will make something for you that will do. Santa Claus is an old dear, and will pretend to think that they are all real stockings. Bear, bring some woolly stuff from that store of yours, if you please!'

And then they all sat in a ring, contriving queer bag-shaped things and fitting them on--all except the Rabbit. He sauntered round for a while among the creatures picking up a bit of stuff here and another bit there, and then he disappeared behind a tree.

By-and-bye all the other animals were proudly marching around, each with one leg in a stocking, but it was some time before the Rabbit strolled up from behind his tree with his stocking wrapped round him like a plaid.

'Let us see it,' said Baby Jane.

With a slight blush and some hesitation the Rabbit laid it on the sand--it was big enough for a hippopotamus.

'Nonsense,' said Baby Jane severely; 'you can't wear that.'