get over that. But when she does, you must listen; and as soon as she
is close to you throw away the comb, and it will sprout up into such a
forest that she will never get through it at all."

"But she'll hear the loom stop," says the little girl.

"I'll see to that," says the thin black cat.

The cat took the little girl's place at the loom.

Clickety clack, clickety clack; the loom never stopped for a moment.

The little girl looked to see that Baba Yaga was in the bath-house,
and then she jumped down from the little hut on hen's legs, and ran to
the gates as fast as her legs could flicker.

The big dog leapt up to tear her to pieces. Just as he was going to
spring on her he saw who she was.

"Why, this is the little girl who gave me the loaf," says he. "A good
journey to you, little girl;" and he lay down again with his head
between his paws.

When she came to the gates they opened quietly, quietly, without
making any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into their
hinges.

Outside the gates there was a little birch tree that beat her in the
eyes so that she could not go by.