“Oh, what a row there was in the henroost!  The cocks began to crow loud enough to split their throats, and the hens to fly about and cackle.  The man was nearly deafened, and yelled out at the top of his voice, ’What do you expect, you fools?  Mice can only be caught with meat, and meat I must and will have too.’  He then let them rave on, and quietly and methodically continued to pluck his chicken.  When it was ready, he made a fire and began to roast it.

“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.

“Poor old Flaps, too, was very ill.  A good many days elapsed before he could get about, and for years he walked lame on his injured leg.

“One morning as the fowls were listlessly wandering about, wondering what was to happen next, Mark, the watchman, was heard crowing away in a very excited manner,

    “’What do I see? 
    Twenty and three!’

“‘What do you see?’ cried they all in a great fright.  ’Twenty and three what?’

“’An army of soldiers dressed in smock frocks.  They are armed with pitchforks, and the black gipsy is their general.’

“The fowls flew up like a cloud to the roof, and sure enough they saw the rat-catcher coming across the heath with a crowd of villagers towards the castle.

“When they broke the doleful news to Flaps, he said, ’That scoundrel of a man has betrayed our hiding-place, and we must wander forth again.  Get ready, and keep up your spirits, and remember that in any case we should not have been able to stay here much longer, on account of the mice.’

“So the hens filled their crops as full as possible, and escaped with Flaps out at the back door.