"This has been going on for some time. War is now declared. Our
enemies are stronger, wiser and richer than ourselves. Daddy
Graymouse has lost his life, Limpy-toes had lost some toes, and I
have lost a generous piece out of one ear. We must consider the
safety of our children. It is wise, therefore, to retreat before it
is too late," he finished, looking very solemn. The other four wagged
their heads in approval.

Next morning when all the little Graymouses were eating their
breakfast food, Mother Graymouse announced soberly, "My dears, we are
going to move."

"Out into the country?" cried Silver Ears and Buster at once.

"Out into the barn."

"Oh, dear!" wailed five little mice.

"Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.

"Listen, dearies," argued Mammy patiently. "Our lives are no longer
safe in this attic. Our enemies are cruel. We must go. But
Grand-daddy and Uncle Squeaky will go with us. You will have Dot,
Scamper, Wink and Wiggle for playmates. Just think what fun you ten
children will have together. Uncle Squeaky knows a snug place in the
hay loft where we can live in safety. There's plenty of grain in the
barrels and the store is still across the street. We older folk may
even venture into the Giant's pantry now and then. But we think it
best to take you children out of danger."