Next morning at daybreak, a great outcry arose from the enemy's camp. Each man as he rose from his sleep found himself in a woeful plight his clothes in rags, his pigtail cut off, his bow without a string, his rifle without a sling, and with no fuse or slow-match to fire it, and no provisions for breakfast. Each one began to accuse the other of theft and treachery, and before many minutes had passed the whole camp was in a state of wild confusion, comrade quarrelling with comrade, or accusing their officers of dishonesty and ill-faith.
In the midst of this uproar the sound of bugles was heard on the opposite bank, and a few shots were fired; and terrified at the thought of being taken unawares, the whole army took to flight, and in a few minutes not a man was to be seen.
When the King of the country of the Mice saw what had happened he was greatly elated, and, sending for the King of the Mice, he thanked him very sincerely for his good offices. And, in accordance with the bargain they had made, he at once had a strong embankment constructed all down his own side of the river to guard against floods, and he issued an edict forbidding all persons, on pain of death, to keep a cat of any kind henceforth within the frontiers of his country, and so the Mice lived securely and happily ever afterwards.
And in order to insure against any more attempts at invasion from the side of the neighbouring kingdom, the King sent a herald across the river to the ruler of that country, to say that, on this occasion, he had only considered it worth while to employ his Mice to defeat
