There was a mouse who’d for a long time lived in terror of a crouching, creeping cat.
In desperation she solicited assistance from the eminent Sir Rat, whose lordship lived in a luxurious hotel next door, and often had been heard to boast that cats did not intimidate him in the least.
“Of course I’ll help you,” said the braggart; “but I cannot rout the fiend alone. I shall assemble all the rats together first; then will we make him rue his birth!”
The mouse made an obeisance, which he graciously acknowledged; then he sped to the hotel, and found the other rats enjoying a perpetual banquet in the pantry.
Breathlessly he summarized the situation. “We must save the mouse, or else, when she is gone, that noxious cat will turn to us to sate his appetite.”
Unanimously they agreed: “To arms!” they cried, “to arms!” And they equipped themselves for battle. Some who stayed behind shed tears, but nothing could dissuade the soldiers, who, prepared to sacrifice their lives to this heroic cause, were joyous, proud, and calm, and marched as though toward a carnival.
They were too late. The cat already had the mouse’s head between his teeth, and showed no sign of letting go. Defiantly he growled and stood his ground, despite the rats’ display of military bluster.
“Let’s retreat,” the prudentest suggested.
“Let’s,” concurred the rest.
Thus ended their campaign. They hurried home to holes from which, thenceforth, they ventured rarely, briefly, and in fear.
It’s easy to be brave—till danger’s near.