<SPAN name="IV" id="IV"></SPAN><h2>IV</h2>
<h2>MR. BADGER</h2></div>
<p><!-- Page 80 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span>
<!-- Page 81 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span>
<br/></p>
<p class="cap">THEY waited patiently for what seemed a
very long time, stamping in the snow to
keep their feet warm. At last they heard the
sound of slow shuffling footsteps approaching
the door from the inside. It seemed, as the
Mole remarked to the Rat, like some one walking
in carpet slippers that were too large for
him and down at heel; which was intelligent
of Mole, because that was exactly what it was.</p>
<p>There was the noise of a bolt shot back, and
the door opened a few inches, enough to show
a long snout and a pair of sleepy blinking eyes.</p>
<p>"Now, the <i>very</i> next time this happens," said
a gruff and suspicious voice, "I shall be exceedingly
angry. Who is it <i>this</i> time, disturbing
people on such a night? Speak up!"</p>
<p>"Oh, Badger," cried the Rat, "let us in,
<!-- Page 82 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</SPAN></span>
please. It's me, Rat, and my friend Mole, and
we've lost our way in the snow."</p>
<p>"What, Ratty, my dear little man!" exclaimed
the Badger, in quite a different voice.
"Come along in, both of you, at once. Why,
you must be perished. Well, I never! Lost in
the snow! And in the Wild Wood, too, and at
this time of night! But come in with you."</p>
<p>The two animals tumbled over each other in
their eagerness to get inside, and heard the door
shut behind them with great joy and relief.</p>
<p>The Badger, who wore a long dressing-gown,
and whose slippers were indeed very down at
heel, carried a flat candlestick in his paw and
had probably been on his way to bed when
their summons sounded. He looked kindly
down on them and patted both their heads.
"This is not the sort of night for small animals
to be out," he said paternally. "I'm afraid
you've been up to some of your pranks again,
Ratty. But come along; come into the kitchen.
There's a first-rate fire there, and supper and
everything."</p>
<p>He shuffled on in front of them, carrying
<!-- Page 83 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</SPAN></span>
the light, and they followed him, nudging each
other in an anticipating sort of way, down a
long, gloomy, and, to tell the truth, decidedly
shabby passage, into a sort of a central hall,
out of which they could dimly see other long
tunnel-like passages branching, passages mysterious
and without apparent end. But there
were doors in the hall as well—stout oaken,
comfortable-looking doors. One of these the
Badger flung open, and at once they found
themselves in all the glow and warmth of a
large fire-lit kitchen.</p>
<p>The floor was well-worn red brick, and on
the wide hearth burnt a fire of logs, between
two attractive chimney-corners tucked away in
the wall, well out of any suspicion of draught.
A couple of high-backed settles, facing each
other on either side of the fire, gave further
sitting accommodations for the sociably disposed.
In the middle of the room stood a long
table of plain boards placed on trestles, with
benches down each side. At one end of it, where
an arm-chair stood pushed back, were spread
the remains of the Badger's plain but ample
<!-- Page 84 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</SPAN></span>
supper. Rows of spotless plates winked from
the shelves of the dresser at the far end of the
room, and from the rafters overhead hung
hams, bundles of dried herbs, nets of onions,
and baskets of eggs. It seemed a place where
heroes could fitly feast after victory, where
weary harvesters could line up in scores along
the table and keep their Harvest Home with
mirth and song, or where two or three friends
of simple tastes could sit about as they pleased
and eat and smoke and talk in comfort and
contentment. The ruddy brick floor smiled up
at the smoky ceiling; the oaken settles, shiny
with long wear, exchanged cheerful glances with
each other; plates on the dresser grinned at
pots on the shelf, and the merry firelight flickered
and played over everything without distinction.</p>
<p>The kindly Badger thrust them down on a
settle to toast themselves at the fire, and bade
them remove their wet coats and boots. Then
he fetched them dressing-gowns and slippers,
and himself bathed the Mole's shin with warm
water and mended the cut with sticking-plaster,
<!-- Page 85 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</SPAN></span>
till the whole thing was just as good as new, if
not better. In the embracing light and warmth,
warm and dry at last, with weary legs propped
up in front of them, and a suggestive clink of
plates being arranged on the table behind, it
seemed to the storm-driven animals, now in
safe anchorage, that the cold and trackless Wild
Wood just left outside was miles and miles
away, and all that they had suffered in it a
half-forgotten dream.</p>
<p>When at last they were thoroughly toasted,
the Badger summoned them to the table, where
he had been busy laying a repast. They had
felt pretty hungry before, but when they actually
saw at last the supper that was spread for
them, really it seemed only a question of what
they should attack first where all was so attractive,
and whether the other things would obligingly
wait for them till they had time to give
them attention. Conversation was impossible
for a long time; and when it was slowly resumed,
it was that regrettable sort of conversation that
results from talking with your mouth full. The
Badger did not mind that sort of thing at all,
<!-- Page 86 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</SPAN></span>
nor did he take any notice of elbows on the table,
or everybody speaking at once. As he did not
go into Society himself, he had got an idea that
these things belonged to the things that didn't
really matter. (We know of course that he was
wrong, and took too narrow a view; because they
do matter very much, though it would take too
long to explain why.) He sat in his arm-chair
at the head of the table, and nodded gravely at
intervals as the animals told their story; and he
did not seem surprised or shocked at anything,
and he never said, "I told you so," or, "Just
what I always said," or remarked that they
ought to have done so-and-so, or ought not to
have done something else. The Mole began to
feel very friendly towards him.</p>
<p>When supper was really finished at last, and
each animal felt that his skin was now as tight
as was decently safe, and that by this time he
didn't care a hang for anybody or anything,
they gathered round the glowing embers of the
great wood fire, and thought how jolly it was
to be sitting up <i>so</i> late, and <i>so</i> independent, and
<i>so</i> full; and after they had chatted for a time
<!-- Page 87 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</SPAN></span>
about things in general, the Badger said heartily,
"Now then! tell us the news from your
part of the world. How's old Toad going on?"</p>
<p>"Oh, from bad to worse," said the Rat
gravely, while the Mole, cocked up on a settle
and basking in the firelight, his heels higher than
his head, tried to look properly mournful. "Another
smash-up only last week, and a bad one.
You see, he will insist on driving himself, and
he's hopelessly incapable. If he'd only employ
a decent, steady, well-trained animal, pay him
good wages, and leave everything to him, he'd
get on all right. But no; he's convinced he's a
heaven-born driver, and nobody can teach him
anything; and all the rest follows."</p>
<p>"How many has he had?" inquired the
Badger gloomily.</p>
<p>"Smashes, or machines?" asked the Rat.
"Oh, well, after all, it's the same thing—with
Toad. This is the seventh. As for the others—you
know that coach-house of his? Well,
it's piled up—literally piled up to the roof—with
fragments of motor-cars, none of them
bigger than your hat! That accounts for the
<!-- Page 88 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</SPAN></span>
other six—so far as they can be accounted
for."</p>
<p>"He's been in hospital three times," put in
the Mole; "and as for the fines he's had to
pay, it's simply awful to think of."</p>
<p>"Yes, and that's part of the trouble," continued
the Rat. "Toad's rich, we all know;
but he's not a millionaire. And he's a hopelessly
bad driver, and quite regardless of law and
order. Killed or ruined—it's got to be one of
the two things, sooner or later. Badger! we're
his friends—oughtn't we to do something?"</p>
<p>The Badger went through a bit of hard
thinking. "Now look here!" he said at last,
rather severely; "of course you know I can't
do anything <i>now</i>?"</p>
<p>His two friends assented, quite understanding
his point. No animal, according to the rules of
animal etiquette, is ever expected to do anything
strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately
active during the off-season of winter. All are
sleepy—some actually asleep. All are weather-bound,
more or less; and all are resting from
arduous days and nights, during which every
<!-- Page 89 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</SPAN></span>
muscle in them has been severely tested, and
every energy kept at full stretch.</p>
<p>"Very well then!" continued the Badger.
"<i>But</i>, when once the year has really turned,
and the nights are shorter, and half-way through
them one rouses and feels fidgety and wanting
to be up and doing by sunrise, if not before—<i>you</i>
know!—"</p>
<p>Both animals nodded gravely. <i>They</i> knew!</p>
<p>"Well, <i>then</i>," went on the Badger, "we—that
is, you and me and our friend the Mole
here—we'll take Toad seriously in hand. We'll
stand no nonsense whatever. We'll bring him
back to reason, by force if need be. We'll <i>make</i>
him be a sensible Toad. We'll—you're asleep,
Rat!"</p>
<p>"Not me!" said the Rat, waking up with a
jerk.</p>
<p>"He's been asleep two or three times since
supper," said the Mole, laughing. He himself
was feeling quite wakeful and even lively,
though he didn't know why. The reason was,
of course, that he being naturally an underground
animal by birth and breeding, the situation
<!-- Page 90 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</SPAN></span>
of Badger's house exactly suited him and
made him feel at home; while the Rat, who
slept every night in a bedroom the windows of
which opened on a breezy river, naturally felt
the atmosphere still and oppressive.</p>
<p>"Well, it's time we were all in bed," said the
Badger, getting up and fetching flat candlesticks.
"Come along, you two, and I'll show
you your quarters. And take your time to-morrow
morning—breakfast at any hour you
please!"</p>
<p>He conducted the two animals to a long room
that seemed half bedchamber and half loft.
The Badger's winter stores, which indeed were
visible everywhere, took up half the room—piles
of apples, turnips, and potatoes, baskets
full of nuts, and jars of honey; but the two
little white beds on the remainder of the floor
looked soft and inviting, and the linen on them,
though coarse, was clean and smelt beautifully
of lavender; and the Mole and the Water Rat,
shaking off their garments in some thirty seconds,
tumbled in between the sheets in great joy
and contentment.
<!-- Page 91 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>In accordance with the kindly Badger's injunctions,
the two tired animals came down to
breakfast very late next morning, and found a
bright fire burning in the kitchen, and two
young hedgehogs sitting on a bench at the
table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden
bowls. The hedgehogs dropped their spoons,
rose to their feet, and ducked their heads respectfully
as the two entered.</p>
<p>"There, sit down, sit down," said the Rat
pleasantly, "and go on with your porridge.
Where have you youngsters come from? Lost
your way in the snow, I suppose?"</p>
<p>"Yes, please, sir," said the elder of the two
hedgehogs respectfully. "Me and little Billy
here, we was trying to find our way to school—mother
<i>would</i> have us go, was the weather ever
so—and of course we lost ourselves, sir, and
Billy he got frightened and took and cried,
being young and faint-hearted. And at last we
happened up against Mr. Badger's back door,
and made so bold as to knock, sir, for Mr.
Badger he's a kind-hearted gentleman, as every
one knows—"
<!-- Page 92 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I understand," said the Rat, cutting himself
some rashers from a side of bacon, while the
Mole dropped some eggs into a saucepan. "And
what's the weather like outside? You needn't
'sir' me quite so much," he added.</p>
<p>"O, terrible bad, sir, terrible deep the snow
is," said the hedgehog. "No getting out for the
likes of you gentlemen to-day."</p>
<p>"Where's Mr. Badger?" inquired the Mole
as he warmed the coffee-pot before the fire.</p>
<p>"The master's gone into his study, sir," replied
the hedgehog, "and he said as how he was
going to be particular busy this morning, and
on no account was he to be disturbed."</p>
<p>This explanation, of course, was thoroughly
understood by every one present. The fact is,
as already set forth, when you live a life of
intense activity for six months in the year, and
of comparative or actual somnolence for the
other six, during the latter period you cannot
be continually pleading sleepiness when there
are people about or things to be done. The excuse
gets monotonous. The animals well knew
that Badger, having eaten a hearty breakfast,
<!-- Page 93 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</SPAN></span>
had retired to his study and settled himself in
an arm-chair with his legs up on another and a
red cotton handkerchief over his face, and was
being "busy" in the usual way at this time of
the year.</p>
<p>The front-door bell clanged loudly, and the
Rat, who was very greasy with buttered toast,
sent Billy, the smaller hedgehog, to see who it
might be. There was a sound of much stamping
in the hall, and presently Billy returned in
front of the Otter, who threw himself on the
Rat with an embrace and a shout of affectionate
greeting.</p>
<p>"Get off!" spluttered the Rat, with his mouth
full.</p>
<p>"Thought I should find you here all right,"
said the Otter cheerfully. "They were all in a
great state of alarm along River Bank when I arrived
this morning. Rat never been home all
night—nor Mole either—something dreadful
must have happened, they said; and the snow
had covered up all your tracks, of course. But
I knew that when people were in any fix they
mostly went to Badger, or else Badger got to
<!-- Page 94 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</SPAN></span>
know of it somehow, so I came straight off here,
through the Wild Wood and the snow! My!
it was fine, coming through the snow as the red
sun was rising and showing against the black
tree-trunks! As you went along in the stillness,
every now and then masses of snow slid off the
branches suddenly with a flop! making you
jump and run for cover. Snow-castles and
snow-caverns had sprung up out of nowhere in
the night—and snow bridges, terraces, ramparts—I
could have stayed and played with
them for hours. Here and there great branches
had been torn away by the sheer weight of the
snow, and robins perched and hopped on them
in their perky conceited way, just as if they had
done it themselves. A ragged string of wild
geese passed overhead, high on the grey sky,
and a few rooks whirled over the trees, inspected,
and flapped off homewards with a disgusted expression;
but I met no sensible being to ask the
news of. About half-way across I came on a rabbit
sitting on a stump, cleaning his silly face
with his paws. He was a pretty scared animal
when I crept up behind him and placed a heavy
<!-- Page 95 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</SPAN></span>
fore-paw on his shoulder. I had to cuff his head
once or twice to get any sense out of it at all.
At last I managed to extract from him that
Mole had been seen in the Wild Wood last
night by one of them. It was the talk of the
burrows, he said, how Mole, Mr. Rat's particular
friend, was in a bad fix; how he had lost
his way, and 'They' were up and out hunting,
and were chivvying him round and round.
'Then why didn't any of you <i>do</i> something?' I
asked. 'You mayn't be blessed with brains,
but there are hundreds and hundreds of you,
big, stout fellows, as fat as butter, and your
burrows running in all directions, and you could
have taken him in and made him safe and
comfortable, or tried to, at all events.' 'What,
<i>us</i>?' he merely said: '<i>do</i> something? us rabbits?'
So I cuffed him again and left him.
There was nothing else to be done. At any
rate, I had learnt something; and if I had
had the luck to meet any of 'Them' I'd have
learnt something more—or <i>they</i> would."</p>
<p><SPAN name="Page94pic" id="Page94pic"></SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus04.jpg" width-obs="420" height-obs="570" alt="Through the Wild Wood and the snow" title="Through the Wild Wood and the snow" /> <span class="caption">Through the Wild Wood and the snow</span></div>
<p>"Weren't you at all—er—nervous?" asked
the Mole, some of yesterday's terror coming
<!-- Page 96 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</SPAN></span>
back to him at the mention of the Wild
Wood.</p>
<p>"Nervous?" The Otter showed a gleaming set
of strong white teeth as he laughed. "I'd give
'em nerves if any of them tried anything on with
me. Here, Mole, fry me some slices of ham, like
the good little chap you are. I'm frightfully
hungry, and I've got any amount to say to
Ratty here. Haven't seen him for an age."</p>
<p>So the good-natured Mole, having cut some
slices of ham, set the hedgehogs to fry it, and
returned to his own breakfast, while the Otter
and the Rat, their heads together, eagerly
talked river-shop, which is long shop and talk
that is endless, running on like the babbling
river itself.</p>
<p>A plate of fried ham had just been cleared
and sent back for more, when the Badger entered,
yawning and rubbing his eyes, and greeted
them all in his quiet, simple way, with kind
inquiries for every one. "It must be getting on
for luncheon time," he remarked to the Otter.
"Better stop and have it with us. You must
be hungry, this cold morning."
<!-- Page 97 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Rather!" replied the Otter, winking at the
Mole. "The sight of these greedy young hedgehogs
stuffing themselves with fried ham makes
me feel positively famished."</p>
<p>The hedgehogs, who were just beginning to
feel hungry again after their porridge, and after
working so hard at their frying, looked timidly
up at Mr. Badger, but were too shy to say
anything.</p>
<p>"Here, you two youngsters, be off home to
your mother," said the Badger kindly. "I'll
send some one with you to show you the way.
You won't want any dinner to-day, I'll be
bound."</p>
<p>He gave them sixpence a-piece and a pat on
the head, and they went off with much respectful
swinging of caps and touching of forelocks.</p>
<p>Presently they all sat down to luncheon together.
The Mole found himself placed next
to Mr. Badger, and, as the other two were still
deep in river-gossip from which nothing could
divert them, he took the opportunity to tell
Badger how comfortable and home-like it all
<!-- Page 98 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span>
felt to him. "Once well underground," he said,
"you know exactly where you are. Nothing
can happen to you, and nothing can get at you.
You're entirely your own master, and you don't
have to consult anybody or mind what they
say. Things go on all the same overhead, and
you let 'em, and don't bother about 'em. When
you want to, up you go, and there the things
are, waiting for you."</p>
<p>The Badger simply beamed on him. "That's
exactly what I say," he replied. "There's no
security, or peace and tranquillity, except underground.
And then, if your ideas get larger and
you want to expand—why, a dig and a scrape,
and there you are! If you feel your house is a
bit too big, you stop up a hole or two, and
there you are again! No builders, no tradesmen,
no remarks passed on you by fellows looking
over your wall, and, above all, no <i>weather</i>.
Look at Rat, now. A couple of feet of flood
water, and he's got to move into hired lodgings;
uncomfortable, inconveniently situated,
and horribly expensive. Take Toad. I say
nothing against Toad Hall; quite the best house
<!-- Page 99 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span>
in these parts, <i>as</i> a house. But supposing a fire
breaks out—where's Toad? Supposing tiles
are blown off, or walls sink or crack, or windows
get broken—where's Toad? Supposing
the rooms are draughty—I <i>hate</i> a draught myself—where's
Toad? No, up and out of doors is
good enough to roam about and get one's living
in; but underground to come back to at last—that's
my idea of <i>home</i>!"</p>
<p>The Mole assented heartily; and the Badger
in consequence got very friendly with him.
"When lunch is over," he said, "I'll take you
all round this little place of mine. I can see
you'll appreciate it. You understand what
domestic architecture ought to be, you do."</p>
<p>After luncheon, accordingly, when the other
two had settled themselves into the chimney-corner
and had started a heated argument on
the subject of <i>eels</i>, the Badger lighted a lantern
and bade the Mole follow him. Crossing the
hall, they passed down one of the principal
tunnels, and the wavering light of the lantern
gave glimpses on either side of rooms both
large and small, some mere cupboards, others
<!-- Page 100 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span>
nearly as broad and imposing as Toad's dining-hall.
A narrow passage at right angles led them
into another corridor, and here the same thing
was repeated. The Mole was staggered at the
size, the extent, the ramifications of it all; at
the length of the dim passages, the solid vaultings
of the crammed store-chambers, the masonry
everywhere, the pillars, the arches, the pavements.
"How on earth, Badger," he said at
last, "did you ever find time and strength to do
all this? It's astonishing!"</p>
<p>"It <i>would</i> be astonishing indeed," said the
Badger simply, "if I <i>had</i> done it. But as a
matter of fact I did none of it—only cleaned
out the passages and chambers, as far as I had
need of them. There's lots more of it, all round
about. I see you don't understand, and I must
explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the
spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before
ever it had planted itself and grown up to what
it now is, there was a city—a city of people,
you know. Here, where we are standing, they
lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and
carried on their business. Here they stabled
<!-- Page 101 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span>
their horses and feasted, from here they rode
out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a
powerful people, and rich, and great builders.
They built to last, for they thought their city
would last for ever."</p>
<p>"But what has become of them all?" asked
the Mole.</p>
<p>"Who can tell?" said the Badger. "People
come—they stay for a while, they flourish, they
build—and they go. It is their way. But we
remain. There were badgers here, I've been
told, long before that same city ever came to
be. And now there are badgers here again.
We are an enduring lot, and we may move out
for a time, but we wait, and are patient, and
back we come. And so it will ever be."</p>
<p>"Well, and when they went at last, those
people?" said the Mole.</p>
<p>"When they went," continued the Badger,
"the strong winds and persistent rains took the
matter in hand, patiently, ceaselessly, year after
year. Perhaps we badgers too, in our small
way, helped a little—who knows? It was all
<!-- Page 102 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span>
down, down, down, gradually—ruin and levelling
and disappearance. Then it was all up, up,
up, gradually, as seeds grew to saplings, and
saplings to forest trees, and bramble and fern
came creeping in to help. Leaf-mould rose and
obliterated, streams in their winter freshets
brought sand and soil to clog and to cover, and
in course of time our home was ready for us
again, and we moved in. Up above us, on the
surface, the same thing happened. Animals
arrived, liked the look of the place, took up
their quarters, settled down, spread, and flourished.
They didn't bother themselves about
the past—they never do; they're too busy.
The place was a bit humpy and hillocky, naturally,
and full of holes; but that was rather an
advantage. And they don't bother about the
future, either—the future when perhaps the
people will move in again—for a time—as
may very well be. The Wild Wood is pretty
well populated by now; with all the usual lot,
good, bad, and indifferent—I name no names.
It takes all sorts to make a world. But I fancy
you know something about them yourself by
this time."
<!-- Page 103 --><span class="pagenum">
<SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"I do indeed," said the Mole, with a slight
shiver.</p>
<p>"Well, well," said the Badger, patting him on
the shoulder, "it was your first experience of
them, you see. They're not so bad really; and
we must all live and let live. But I'll pass the
word around to-morrow, and I think you'll have
no further trouble. Any friend of <i>mine</i> walks
where he likes in this country, or I'll know the
reason why!"</p>
<p>When they got back to the kitchen again,
they found the Rat walking up and down, very
restless. The underground atmosphere was oppressing
him and getting on his nerves, and he
seemed really to be afraid that the river would
run away if he wasn't there to look after it.
So he had his overcoat on, and his pistols thrust
into his belt again. "Come along, Mole," he
said anxiously, as soon as he caught sight of
them. "We must get off while it's daylight.
Don't want to spend another night in the Wild
Wood again."</p>
<p>"It'll be all right, my fine fellow," said the
Otter. "I'm coming along with you, and I
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<SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>
know every path blindfold; and if there's a
head that needs to be punched, you can confidently
rely upon me to punch it."</p>
<p>"You really needn't fret, Ratty," added the
Badger placidly. "My passages run further
than you think, and I've bolt-holes to the edge
of the wood in several directions, though I don't
care for everybody to know about them. When
you really have to go, you shall leave by one of
my short cuts. Meantime, make yourself easy,
and sit down again."</p>
<p>The Rat was nevertheless still anxious to
be off and attend to his river, so the Badger,
taking up his lantern again, led the way along
a damp and airless tunnel that wound and
dipped, part vaulted, part hewn through solid
rock, for a weary distance that seemed to be
miles. At last daylight began to show itself
confusedly through tangled growth overhanging
the mouth of the passage; and the Badger,
bidding them a hasty good-bye, pushed them
hurriedly through the opening, made everything
look as natural as possible again, with creepers,
brushwood, and dead leaves, and retreated.
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<SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>They found themselves standing on the very
edge of the Wild Wood. Rocks and brambles
and tree-roots behind them, confusedly heaped
and tangled; in front, a great space of quiet
fields, hemmed by lines of hedges black on the
snow, and, far ahead, a glint of the familiar
old river, while the wintry sun hung red and
low on the horizon. The Otter, as knowing all
the paths, took charge of the party, and they
trailed out on a bee-line for a distant stile.
Pausing there a moment and looking back, they
saw the whole mass of the Wild Wood, dense,
menacing, compact, grimly set in vast white
surroundings; simultaneously they turned and
made swiftly for home, for firelight and the
familiar things it played on, for the voice,
sounding cheerily outside their window, of the
river that they knew and trusted in all its moods,
that never made them afraid with any amazement.</p>
<p>As he hurried along, eagerly anticipating the
moment when he would be at home again
among the things he knew and liked, the Mole
saw clearly that he was an animal of tilled field
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<SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span>
and hedgerow, linked to the ploughed furrow,
the frequented pasture, the lane of evening lingerings,
the cultivated garden-plot. For others
the asperities, the stubborn endurance, or the
clash of actual conflict, that went with Nature
in the rough; he must be wise, must keep to
the pleasant places in which his lines were laid
and which held adventure enough, in their way,
to last for a lifetime.
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