"_Oh!_" It was the little old gentleman, beard blown sidewise by the wind. "We musn't let her!"

The Piper, in his excitement, jounced the pig so hard that it squealed.

"We ought to be able," he panted, "to manage a top."

"Jane!" bellowed the Policeman, galloping hard. "You must _not_ injure that shaft!"

Then Gwendolyn realized that the square _tower_ toward which the nurse was spinning was the Big Rock. And she recognized it as a certain great pillar of pink granite, up and down the sides of which, deep cut by chisels, were written strange words.

It rose just ahead. Answering the Officer with a shrill, scoffing laugh, Jane bore down upon it. Aided by the wind, she made top speed.

There was not a moment to lose. Her pursuers fairly tore after her. And the Piper, who made the fastest progress, gained--until he was at her very heels. Then with a final leap, he passed her, and circled, dragging the rope.

It made a loop about the buttonless shoes--a loop that tightened as the little old gentleman came short, as the Piper halted. Each gave a pull--

With disastrous result! For as the line came taut, up Jane went!--caught bodily from the ground. And still spinning, whizzed forward in that high wind and struck the granite squarely.

She fell to the ground, toppling sidewise, and bulking large.

But the shaft! It began to move--slowly at first--to tip forward, farther and farther. When, gaining velocity, with a great grinding noise, down from off the massive cube upon which it stood it came crashing!

Instantly a chorus of cries arose: "Oh, she's bumped over the obelisk!

She's bumped over the obelisk!"

With the cries, and sounding from beneath the tapered end of the Big Rock, mingled ferocious growls--"_Rar! Rar! Rar! Rar!_"

And in that same moment, the four who were holding the rope felt it begin to writhe and twist in their grasp!--_like a live thing_. And its black length took on a scaly look, glittering in that pink glow as if it were covered with small ebon _paillettes_. It grew cold and clammy.

At its thicker end Gwendolyn saw that the Piper was supporting a head--a head with small, fiery eyes and a tongue flame-like in its color and swift darting. Next, "_Hiss-s-s-s-s!_" And with one hideous contortion, the huge black body wrung itself free and coiled.

Once Gwendolyn had boasted that she was not afraid of snakes. And now she did not flee, though the black coils were piled at her very feet.

For she recognized the serpent. There was no mistaking that thin face and those small eyes. Moreover, a pocket-handkerchief was bound round the reptilian jaws and tied at the top of the head in a bow-knot.

She had gotten rid of Thomas. But here was Miss Royle!

There was no time for greetings. Again were sounding those furious growls--"_Rar! Rar! Rar!_"

Jane swung round in a half-circle to warn the governess. "It's that Bear!" she hummed. "Can't you drive him away?"

Miss Royle began to uncoil.

The Policeman was _tick-tocking_ up and down. "The Den's damaged!" he lamented.

"_Now_, who's goin' to pay?" demanded the Piper.

"I'm afraid the Bear's hurt," declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.

In her eagerness to trip Jane, Gwendolyn had utterly forgotten the Bear's Den. Now she saw it--a large cage, light in color, its bars woven closely together. And she saw too--with horror--that what the Policeman said was true: In falling, the Big Rock had broken the cover of the Den. This cover was flopping up and down on its hinges.

"Oh, he's loose!" she gasped.

"_Rar! Rar! Rar-r-r!_"

The Bear himself was knocking the cover into the air. The top of his head could be seen as he hopped about, evidently in pain.

And now an extraordinary thing happened: A black glittering body shot rustling through the grass to the side of the Den. Then up went a scaly head, and forth darted a flaming tongue--driving the Bear back under the cover!

At which the Bear rebelled. For his growls turned into a muffled protest--"Now, you stop, Miss Royle! I _won't_ be treated like this! I _won't!_"

Then Gwendolyn understood Jane's hum! And why the governess had obeyed it so swiftly. The light-colored cage with the loose cover was nothing else than the old linen-hamper! As for the Bear--!

Hair flying, cheeks crimson, eyes shining with quick tears of joy, she darted past Jane, leaped the glittering snake-folds before the hamper, and swung the cover up on its hinges.

"Puffy!" she cried. "Oh, Puffy!"

It was indeed Puffy, with his plushy brown head, his bright, shoe-button eyes, his red-tipped, sharply pointed nose, his adorably tiny ears, and deep-cut, tightly shut, determined mouth. It was Puffy, as dear as ever!

As old and as squashy!

He stood up in the hamper to look at her, leaning his front paws--in rather a dignified manner--on the broken edge of the basketry. He was breathing hard from his contest, but smiling nevertheless.

"Ah!" said he, affably. "The Poor Little Rich Girl, I see!"

Gwendolyn's first impulse was to take him up in her arms. But his proud air, combined with the fact that he had grown tremendously, caused her to check the impulse.

"How do you do?" she inquired politely.

"I'm pretty shabby, thank you."

"Oh, it's _so_ good to hear your voice again!" she exclaimed. "When you left, I didn't have a chance to tell you good-by."

It was then that she noticed a white something fluttering at his breast, just under his left fore-leg. "Excuse me," she said apologetically, "but aren't you losing your pocket handkerchief?"

Sadly he shook his head. "It's my stuffing," he explained. And gently withdrawing his paw from her eager grasp, laid it upon his breast. "You see, the Big Rock--"

The little old gentleman was beside him, examining the wound; muttering to himself.

"Can you mend him?" asked Gwendolyn. "Oh, Puffy!"

The little old gentleman began to empty his pockets of the articles with which he had provided himself--the ear, the handful of hair, the plump cheek. "Ah! Ah!" he breathed as he examined each one; and to and fro wagged the grizzled beard. "I'm afraid--! I must have help. This is a case that will require a specialist."

The tone was so solemn that it frightened her. "Oh, do you mean we need a _Doctor?_"

Puffy was trembling weakly. "I lost some cotton-batting once before,"

he half-whispered to Gwendolyn. "It was when you were teething. Oh, I know it was unintentional! You were _so_ little. But--I can't spare any more."

Down into the patch-pocket went her hand. Out came the lip-case. She thrust it into his furry grasp. "Keep this," she bade, "till I come back. _I'll_ go for the Doctor."

The Man-Who-Makes-Faces leaned down. "Fly!" he urged.

At that, Jane began to circle once more. "Lovie," she hummed, "don't you go! He'll give you nasty medicine!"