22 STORIES FROM DAUDET

Enormous, motionless, he sat there
gazing at the little white goat and
fancying how she would taste. As he
had made up his mind to eat her, he
was in no hurry, only when she turned
he grinned savagely.

‘Ha! ha! M. Seguin’s little goat,’
and he licked his lank jaws with his
great red tongue,

Blanquette felt that she was lost.
. . . For a moment as she remembered
the story of old Renaude, who fought
all night only to be eaten after all in
the morning, she thought it was better
to be devoured at once; but then,
thinking better of it, she stood on her
guard with her head down and her
horns forward like the brave little goat
that she was. . . . Not that she had
any hope of killing the wolf—goats do
not kill wolves—but only to see if she
could make as good a fight as Renaude.
Then the monster made his attack
and the little horns came into play.

Ah! the brave little goat, how hard