They had not proceeded very far on their way, however, when there

was a pattering of feet behind them, and Toad caught them up and
thrust a paw inside the elbow of each of them; still breathing

short and staring into vacancy.
`Now, look here, Toad!' said the Rat sharply: `as soon as we get

to the town, you'll have to go straight to the police-station,
and see if they know anything about that motor-car and who it

belongs to, and lodge a complaint against it. And then you'll
have to go to a blacksmith's or a wheelwright's and arrange for

the cart to be fetched and mended and put to rights. It'll take
time, but it's not quite a hopeless smash. Meanwhile, the Mole

and I will go to an inn and find comfortable rooms where we can
stay till the cart's ready, and till your nerves have

recovered their shock.'
`Police-station! Complaint!'murmured Toad dreamily. `Me

COMPLAIN of that beautiful, that heavenlyvision that has been
vouchsafed me! MEND THE CART! I've done with carts for ever.

I never want to see the cart, or to hear of it, again. O, Ratty!
You can't think how obliged I am to you for consenting to come on

this trip! I wouldn't have gone without you, and then I might
never have seen that--that swan, that sunbeam, that thunderbolt!

I might never have heard that entrancing sound, or smelt that
bewitching smell! I owe it all to you, my best of friends!'

The Rat turned from him in despair. `You see what it is?' he
said to the Mole, addressing him across Toad's head: `He's quite

hopeless. I give it up--when we get to the town we'll go to the
railway station, and with luck we may pick up a train there

that'll get us back to riverbank to-night. And if ever you catch
me going a-pleasuring with this provoking animal again!'

He snorted, and during the rest of that weary trudge addressed
his remarks exclusively to Mole.

On reaching the town they went straight to the station and
deposited Toad in the second-class waiting-room, giving a porter

twopence to keep a strict eye on him. They then left the horse
at an inn stable, and gave what directions they could about the

cart and its contents. Eventually, a slow train having landed
them at a station not very far from Toad Hall, they escorted the

spell-bound, sleep-walking Toad to his door, put him inside it,
and instructed his housekeeper to feed him, undress him, and put

him to bed. Then they got out their boat from the boat-house,
sculled down the river home, and at a very late hour sat down to

supper in their own cosy riverside parlour, to the Rat's great
joy and contentment.

The following evening the Mole, who had risen late and taken
things very easy all day, was sitting on the bank fishing, when

the Rat, who had been looking up his friends and gossiping, came
strolling along to find him. `Heard the news?' he said.

`There's nothing else being talked about, all along the river
bank. Toad went up to Town by an early train this morning. And

he has ordered a large and very expensive motor-car.'
III

THE WILD WOOD
The Mole had long wanted to make the I acquaintance of the

Badger. He seemed, by all accounts, to be such an important
personage and, though rarelyvisible, to make his unseen

influence felt by everybody about the place. But whenever the
Mole mentioned his wish to the Water Rat he always found himself

put off. `It's all right,' the Rat would say. `Badger'll turn
up some day or other--he's always turning up--and then I'll

introduce you. The best of fellows! But you must not only take
him AS you find him, but WHEN you find him.'

`Couldn't you ask him here dinner or something?' said the Mole.
`He wouldn't come,' replied the Rat simply. `Badger hates

Society, and invitations, and dinner, and all that sort of
thing.'

`Well, then, supposing we go and call on HIM?' suggested the
Mole.

`O, I'm sure he wouldn't like that at ALL,' said the Rat,
quite alarmed. `He's so very shy, he'd be sure to be offended.

I've never even ventured to call on him at his own home myself,
though I know him so well. Besides, we can't. It's quite out of

the question, because he lives in the very middle of the Wild
Wood.'

`Well, supposing he does,' said the Mole. `You told me the Wild
Wood was all right, you know.'

`O, I know, I know, so it is,' replied the Rat evasively. `But I
think we won't go there just now. Not JUST yet. It's a long

way, and he wouldn't be at home at this time of year anyhow, and
he'll be coming along some day, if you'll wait quietly.'

The Mole had to be content with this. But the Badger never came
along, and every day brought its amusements, and it was not till

summer was long over, and cold and frost and miry ways kept them
much indoors, and the swollen river raced past outside their

windows with a speed that mocked at boating of any sort or
kind, that he found his thoughts dwelling again with much

persistence on the solitary grey Badger, who lived his own life
by himself, in his hole in the middle of the Wild Wood.

In the winter time the Rat slept a great deal, retiring early and
rising late. During his short day he sometimes scribbled poetry

or did other small domestic jobs about the house; and, of course,
there were always animals dropping in for a chat, and

consequently there was a good deal of story-telling and comparing
notes on the past summer and all its doings.

Such a rich chapter it had been, when one came to look back on it
all! With illustrations so numerous and so very highly coloured!

The pageant of the river bank had marched steadily along,
unfolding itself in scene-pictures that succeeded each other in

statelyprocession. Purple loosestrife arrived early, shaking
luxuriant tangled locks along the edge of the mirror whence its

own face laughed back at it. Willow-herb, tender and wistful,
like a pink sunset cloud, was not slow to follow. Comfrey, the

purple hand-in-hand with the white, crept forth to take its place
in the line; and at last one morning the diffident and

delaying dog-rose stepped delicately on the stage, and one knew,
as if string-music had announced it in stately chords that

strayed into a gavotte, that June at last was here. One member
of the company was still awaited; the shepherd-boy for the nymphs

to woo, the knight for whom the ladies waited at the window, the
prince that was to kiss the sleeping summer back to life and

love. But when meadow-sweet, debonair and odorous in amber
jerkin, moved graciously to his place in the group, then the play

was ready to begin.
And what a play it had been! Drowsy animals, snug in their holes

while wind and rain were battering at their doors, recalled still
keen mornings, an hour before sunrise, when the white mist, as

yet undispersed, clung closely along the surface of the water;
then the shock of the early plunge, the scamper along the bank,

and the radianttransformation of earth, air, and water, when
suddenly the sun was with them again, and grey was gold and

colour was born and sprang out of the earth once more. They
recalled the languorous siesta of hot mid-day, deep in green

undergrowth, the sun striking through in tiny golden shafts and
spots; the boating and bathing of the afternoon, the rambles

along dusty lanes and through yellow cornfields; and the long,
cool evening at last, when so many threads were gathered up, so

many friendships rounded, and so many adventures planned for the
morrow. There was plenty to talk about on those short winter

days when the animals found themselves round the fire; still, the