When at last, compelled by hunger, he returned to her, he was silent and sullen and would not be caressed.
He saw no more of the cat, and when next day he asked her where it was, she said that it had gone from them and would return no more--that she had sent it away because it had vexed him.

This made Martin sulk, and he would have gone away and hidden himself from her had she not caught him up in her arms.

He struggled to free himself, but could not, and she then carried him away a long distance down the mountain-side until they came to a small dell, green with creepers and bushes, with a deep carpet of dry moss on the ground, and here she sat down and began to talk to him.
"The cat was a very beautiful beast with his spotted hide," she said; "and you liked to play with him sometimes, but in a little while you will be glad that he has gone from you." He asked her why.
"Because though he was fond of you and liked to follow you about and play with you, he is very fierce and powerful, and all the other beasts are afraid of him.

So long as he was with us they would not come, but now he has gone they will come to you and let you go to them." "Where are they ?" said Martin, his curiosity greatly excited.
"Let us wait here," she said, "and perhaps we shall see one by-and-by." So they waited and were silent, and as nothing came and nothing happened, Martin sitting on the mossy ground began to feel a strange drowsiness stealing over him.

He rubbed his eyes and looked round; he wanted to keep very wide awake and alert, so as not to miss the sight of anything that might come.