class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[9]"/> for being eaten—so sunny and fresh, and all the young shoots are just sprouting now, and I was just going out with Fluffie'; and he buried his little nose in the sand.

'If you did happen to want to let me go this once,' he said, in a muffled, jerky voice, 'I wouldn't be saucy any more. But it doesn't matter.'

'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.

If he had been struck, the Bear must have been knocked headlong; but he stooped, and the Lion passed over him and fell upon his back some twenty yards farther on. Before he could get up, the Bear was upon him.

'Oh, you will suffocate him!' cried Baby Jane, and, indeed, it seemed likely, for all of the Lion that was not covered by the Bear was seen to be in violent motion.

The Lion flung himself ... at his enemy.

But instead of showing any sympathy for his fallen foe, the Bear hit him a sounding thump on the ribs.

'He's trying to bite,' he explained. 'I'll let him up when he says he'll learn to dance.'

'Get off my head,' said the Lion in smothered tones.

'Oh, Lion, say you will!' pleaded Baby Jane. 'Get off my head,' said the Lion.

'Get off my head,' said the Lion.

'Do as the young lady tells you,' said the Bear.

'Get off my head.'

'I will promise for him, Bear,' cried Baby Jane in despair.

'Oh, all right,' said the Bear, and he arose.

The Lion got up, looking very crushed and humble. He came crawling to Baby Jane, and said—

'You saved me from being smothered, for I could never have obeyed that Bear; but I will learn to dance if you wish it.'

Looking very crushed and humble.

'That's right,' said Baby Jane briskly. 'Now we only want two more to make a big enough class.'

'I know of another,' said the Bear, following Baby Jane's cheerful lead, and off he set for a distant bend of the little river.

Very soon, with an amiable-looking lady Crocodile on his arm, he came pacing back.

Although the lady Crocodile looked amiable, she seemed rather stupid, and would answer no questions, but only smiled. Baby Jane noticed that she seemed to have something on her mind—or in her mouth—and so it proved, for when the Bear whispered something funny in her ear and made her laugh out loud, a little nigger boy dropped out of her mouth.

With an amiable-looking lady Crocodile on his arm.

Baby Jane was horrified, but still the little nigger was safe, now, and to make a fuss would break up the whole party; so she said calmly—

'That makes six; now we can begin.'

For a class-room she chose a smooth patch of sand with no stones on it.

'Sit down in a row,' she said; 'the Bear and I will first show you a few steps of the Gavotte.'

While she was doing up her hair into a knot—an arrangement that she considered indispensable for that dance—the Bear stood brushing his beautiful fur and preening himself like a clumsy canary, and then shambled up looking very nervous. The others sat down awkwardly beside one another, trying to be at their ease, but they were the oddest row of creatures that ever sat down together, and not very likely to be friendly. However, the Piccaninny and the Rabbit soon began a firm friendship by playfully jogging one another over.

'Now!' said Baby Jane to the Bear, rather sternly, to cover the uncertainty she herself felt in teaching the Gavotte. 'Take my hand. One—two—three!'

'Oh, please, please stop,' said the Bear, 'I have got my legs so mixed. Which is my right foot?'

And, indeed, you could hardly imagine how those short legs could have got in such a muddle.

'Please tread on those toes,' he asked Baby Jane. 'No—those over here, and then I shall know by the feel which is which.'

Baby Jane trod lightly.

'Left!' shouted the Bear. 'That is just as I thought!'

But, even having found out which was which, it took a little time and the use of a palm branch as a lever to unmix them.

'I have got my legs so mixed.'

After this the Bear did much better, and, indeed, put on quite a dainty powder-and-brocade air.

All this while the others were turning slowly from a state of wondering admiration to fidgetiness, and the Rabbit and the Piccaninny were beginning to grow rough; so Baby Jane thought of something that everybody would like.

'Now,' said she, 'I will teach you an easy Highland Schottische step.'

It was simply astounding—the way those creatures picked it up. As for the Lion, for whom she made a little kilt and sporran of palm leaves to make him more real, you could not believe how like a true Scot he looked, and how Scottishly he bounded in the air and snapped his fingers and yapped—you would hear no wilder yap in the Highlands.

Of course the Bear had a mishap. It was through treading on the Crocodile's tail that he came down on a poor little Porcupine who had crept out from a neighbouring cactus thicket and was dancing a little fling all by himself. However, the Porcupine was not really