policemen when I'm on my own engine, for another. And the sight
of an animal in tears always makes me feel queer and softhearted.

So cheer up, Toad! I'll do my best, and we may beat them yet!'
They piled on more coals, shovelling furiously; the furnace

roared, the sparks flew, the engine leapt and swung but still
their pursuers slowly gained. The engine-driver, with a sigh,

wiped his brow with a handful of cotton-waste, and said,
`I'm afraid it's no good, Toad. You see, they are running light,

and they have the better engine. There's just one thing left for
us to do, and it's your only chance, so attend very carefully to

what I tell you. A short way ahead of us is a long tunnel, and
on the other side of that the line passes through a thick wood.

Now, I will put on all the speed I can while we are running
through the tunnel, but the other fellows will slow down a bit,

naturally, for fear of an accident. When we are through, I will
shut off steam and put on brakes as hard as I can, and the moment

it's safe to do so you must jump and hide in the wood, before
they get through the tunnel and see you. Then I will go full

speed ahead again, and they can chase me if they like, for as
long as they like, and as far as they like. Now mind and be

ready to jump when I tell you!'
They piled on more coals, and the train shot into the tunnel, and

the engine rushed and roared and rattled, till at last they shot
out at the other end into fresh air and the peaceful moonlight,

and saw the wood lying dark and helpful upon either side of the
line. The driver shut off steam and put on brakes, the Toad

got down on the step, and as the train slowed down to almost a
walking pace he heard the driver call out, `Now, jump!'

Toad jumped, rolled down a short embankment, picked himself up
unhurt, scrambled into the wood and hid.

Peeping out, he saw his train get up speed again and disappear at
a great pace. Then out of the tunnel burst the pursuing engine,

roaring and whistling, her motley crew waving their various
weapons and shouting, `Stop! stop! stop!' When they were past,

the Toad had a hearty laugh--for the first time since he was
thrown into prison.

But he soon stopped laughing when he came to consider that it was
now very late and dark and cold, and he was in an unknown wood,

with no money and no chance of supper, and still far from friends
and home; and the dead silence of everything, after the roar and

rattle of the train, was something of a shock. He dared not
leave the shelter of the trees, so he struck into the wood, with

the idea of leaving the railway as far as possible behind him.
After so many weeks within walls, he found the wood strange

and unfriendly and inclined, he thought, to make fun of him.
Night-jars, sounding their mechanicalrattle, made him think that

the wood was full of searching warders, closing in on him. An
owl, swooping noiselessly towards him, brushed his shoulder with

its wing, making him jump with the horridcertainty that it was a
hand; then flitted off, moth-like, laughing its low ho! ho! ho;

which Toad thought in very poor taste. Once he met a fox, who
stopped, looked him up and down in a sarcastic sort of way, and

said, `Hullo, washerwoman! Half a pair of socks and a pillow-
case short this week! Mind it doesn't occur again!' and

swaggered off, sniggering. Toad looked about for a stone to
throw at him, but could not succeed in finding one, which vexed

him more than anything. At last, cold, hungry, and tired out, he
sought the shelter of a hollow tree, where with branches and dead

leaves he made himself as comfortable a bed as he could, and
slept soundly till the morning.

IX
WAYFARERS ALL

The Water Rat was restless, and he did not exactly know why. To
all appearance the summer's pomp was still at fullest height, and

although in the tilled acres green had given way to gold, though
rowans were reddening, and the woods were dashed here and there

with a tawny fierceness, yet light and warmth and colour were
still present in undiminished measure, clean of any chilly

premonitions of the passing year. But the constantchorus of the
orchards and hedges had shrunk to a casual evensong from a few

yet unwearied performers; the robin was beginning to assert
himself once more; and there was a feeling in the air of change

and departure. The cuckoo, of course, had long been silent; but
many another feathered friend, for months a part of the familiar

landscape and its small society, was missing too and it
seemed that the ranks thinned steadily day by day. Rat, ever

observant of all wingedmovement, saw that it was taking daily a
southing tendency; and even as he lay in bed at night he thought

he could make out, passing in the darkness overhead, the beat and
quiver of impatient pinions, obedient to the peremptory call.

Nature's Grand Hotel has its Season, like the others. As the
guests one by one pack, pay, and depart, and the seats at the

table-d'hote shrink pitifully at each succeeding meal; as
suites of rooms are closed, carpets taken up, and waiters sent

away; those boarders who are staying on, en pension, until the
next year's full re-opening, cannot help being somewhat affected

by all these flittings and farewells, this eager discussion of
plans, routes, and fresh quarters, this daily shrinkage in the

stream of comradeship. One gets unsettled, depressed, and
inclined to be querulous. Why this craving for change? Why not

stay on quietly here, like us, and be jolly? You don't know this
hotel out of the season, and what fun we have among ourselves, we

fellows who remain and see the whole interesting year out. All
very true, no doubt the others always reply; we quite envy

you--and some other year perhaps--but just now we have
engagements--and there's the bus at the door--our time is up! So

they depart, with a smile and a nod, and we miss them, and feel
resentful. The Rat was a self-sufficing sort of animal, rooted

to the land, and, whoever went, he stayed; still, he could not
help noticing what was in the air, and feeling some of its

influence in his bones.
It was difficult to settle down to anything seriously, with all

this flitting going on. Leaving the water-side, where rushes
stood thick and tall in a stream that was becoming sluggish and

low, he wandered country-wards, crossed a field or two of
pasturage already looking dusty and parched, and thrust into the

great sea of wheat, yellow, wavy, and murmurous, full of quiet
motion and small whisperings. Here he often loved to wander,

through the forest of stiff strong stalks that carried their own
golden sky away over his head--a sky that was always dancing,

shimmering, softly talking; or swaying strongly to the passing
wind and recovering itself with a toss and a merry laugh. Here,

too, he had many small friends, a society complete in
itself, leading full and busy lives, but always with a spare

moment to gossip, and exchange news with a visitor. Today,
however, though they were civil enough, the field-mice and

harvest-mice seemed preoccupied. Many were digging and
tunnelling busily; others, gathered together in small groups,

examined plans and drawings of small flats, stated to be
desirable and compact, and situatedconveniently near the Stores.

Some were hauling out dusty trunks and dress-baskets, others were
already elbow-deep packing their belongings; while everywhere

piles and bundles of wheat, oats, barley, beech-mast and nuts,
lay about ready for transport.

`Here's old Ratty!' they cried as soon as they saw him. `Come
and bear a hand, Rat, and don't stand about idle!'