"In the meanwhile, Flaps had heard all the noise and outcry, and as it
showed no signs of abating, he thought the man was most likely in
mischief, so he went into the castle.
"'Oh! Woe! Misery! Horror! Despair!' cried all the fowls at once as soon
as they saw him. 'The murderer has slain young Scratchfoot the cock, and
is just going to roast him!'
"'You're a dead man,' growled Flaps to the rat-catcher, as soon as he
got up to the loft.
"'I'm not so sure of that, my fine cur,' said the man, taking hold of
the cudgel he had brought with him, and tucking up his sleeves.
"But the brave old dog sprang at him and bit him so severely that he
uttered a savage groan, and dealt Flaps a heavy blow with his cudgel.
This nearly broke the dog's leg and obliged him to relax his hold, on
which the gipsy dashed down-stairs and ran away with such speed that
Flaps on three legs had no chance of overtaking him.
"'Wait a bit!' cried the man from afar. 'I'll remember you!' And then
his retreating figure became smaller and smaller on the heath until at
last it disappeared altogether.
"This time the fowls had no heart for a feast. They sat brooding and
moping in rows on the rafters, for they began to see very clearly that
it was quite hopeless to try and get rid of the mice.
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