Before he could
recover his feet, he had caught some great scratches on his face
and several severe bites on his legs and arms. But as he scrambled
to get up, his hand fell upon his pickaxe, and before the horrid
beasts could do him any serious harm, he was laying about with it
right and left in the dark. The hideous cries which followed gave
him the satisfaction of knowing that he had punished some of them
pretty smartly for their rudeness, and by their scampering and
their retreating howls, he perceived that he had routed them. He
stood for a little, weighing his battle-axe in his hand as if it
had been the most precious lump of metal - but indeed no lump of
gold itself could have been so precious at the time as that common
tool - then untied the end of the string from it, put the ball in
his pocket, and still stood thinking. It was clear that the cobs'
creatures had found his axe, had between them carried it off, and
had so led him he knew not where. But for all his thinking he
could not tell what he ought to do, until suddenly he became aware
of a glimmer of light in the distance.
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