consider,' he observed, `that stealing the motor-car was the
worst offence; and so it is. But cheeking the police undoubtedly

carries the severest penalty; and so it ought. Supposing you
were to say twelve months for the theft, which is mild; and three

years for the furious driving, which is lenient; and fifteen
years for the cheek, which was pretty bad sort of cheek, judging

by what we've heard from the witness-box, even if you only
believe one-tenth part of what you heard, and I never believe

more myself--those figures, if added together correctly, tot up
to nineteen years----'

`First-rate!' said the Chairman.
`--So you had better make it a round twenty years and be on

the safe side,' concluded the Clerk.
`An excellent suggestion!' said the Chairman approvingly.

`Prisoner! Pull yourself together and try and stand up straight.
It's going to be twenty years for you this time. And mind, if

you appear before us again, upon any chargewhatever, we shall
have to deal with you very seriously!'

Then the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad;
loaded him with chains, and dragged him from the Court House,

shrieking, praying, protesting; across the marketplace, where the
playful populace, always as severe upon detected crime as they

are sympathetic and helpful when one is merely `wanted,' assailed
him with jeers, carrots, and popular catch-words; past hooting

school children, their innocent faces lit up with the pleasure
they ever derive from the sight of a gentleman in difficulties;

across the hollow-sounding drawbridge, below the spiky
portcullis, under the frowning archway of the grim old castle,

whose ancient towers soared high overhead; past guardrooms full
of grinning soldiery off duty, past sentries who coughed in a

horrid, sarcastic way, because that is as much as a sentry
on his post dare do to show his contempt and abhorrence of crime;

up time-worn winding stairs, past men-at-arms in casquet and
corselet of steel, darting threatening looks through their

vizards; across courtyards, where mastiffs strained at their
leash and pawed the air to get at him; past ancient warders,

their halberds leant against the wall, dozing over a pasty and a
flagon of brown ale; on and on, past the rack-chamber and the

thumbscrew-room, past the turning that led to the private
scaffold, till they reached the door of the grimmest dungeon that

lay in the heart of the innermost keep. There at last they
paused, where an ancient gaoler sat fingering a bunch of mighty

keys.
`Oddsbodikins!' said the sergeant of police, taking off his

helmet and wiping his forehead. `Rouse thee, old loon, and take
over from us this vile Toad, a criminal of deepest guilt and

matchless artfulness and resource. Watch and ward him with all
thy skill; and mark thee well, greybeard, should aught untoward

befall, thy old head shall answer for his--and a murrain on both
of them!'

The gaoler nodded grimly, laying his withered hand on the
shoulder of the miserable Toad. The rusty key creaked in the

lock, the great door clanged behind them; and Toad was a helpless
prisoner in the remotest dungeon of the best-guarded keep of the

stoutest castle in all the length and breadth of Merry England.
VII

THE PIPER AT THE GATES OF DAWN
The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden

himself in the dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was
past ten o'clock at night, the sky still clung to and retained

some lingering skirts of light from the departed day; and the
sullen heats of the torrid afternoon broke up and rolled away at

the dispersing touch of the cool fingers of the short midsummer
night. Mole lay stretched on the bank, still panting from the

stress of the fierce day that had been cloudless from dawn to
late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He had been on

the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free to
keep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come

back to find the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who
was doubtless keeping it up late with his old comrade.

It was still too hot to think of staying indoors, so he lay on
some cool dock-leaves, and thought over the past day and its

doings, and how very good they all had been.
The Rat's light footfall was presently heard approaching over the

parched grass. `O, the blessed coolness!' he said, and sat down,
gazing thoughtfully into the river, silent and pre-occupied.

`You stayed to supper, of course?' said the Mole presently.
`Simply had to,' said the Rat. `They wouldn't hear of my going

before. You know how kind they always are. And they made things
as jolly for me as ever they could, right up to the moment I

left. But I felt a brute all the time, as it was clear to me
they were very unhappy, though they tried to hide it. Mole, I'm

afraid they're in trouble. Little Portly is missing again; and
you know what a lot his father thinks of him, though he never

says much about it.'
`What, that child?' said the Mole lightly. `Well, suppose he is;

why worry about it? He's always straying off and getting lost,
and turning up again; he's so adventurous. But no harm ever

happens to him. Everybody hereabouts knows him and likes him,
just as they do old Otter, and you may be sure some animal or

other will come across him and bring him back again all right.
Why, we've found him ourselves, miles from home, and quite self-

possessed and cheerful!'
`Yes; but this time it's more serious,' said the Rat gravely.

`He's been missing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted
everywhere, high and low, without finding the slightest trace.

And they've asked every animal, too, for miles around, and no one
knows anything about him. Otter's evidently more anxious than

he'll admit. I got out of him that young Portly hasn't learnt to
swim very well yet, and I can see he's thinking of the weir.

There's a lot of water coming down still, considering the time of
the year, and the place always had a fascination for the child.

And then there are--well, traps and things--YOU know. Otter's
not the fellow to be nervous about any son of his before it's

time. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with
me--said he wanted some air, and talked about stretching his

legs. But I could see it wasn't that, so I drew him out and
pumped him, and got it all from him at last. He was going to

spend the night watching by the ford. You know the place where
the old ford used to be, in by-gone days before they built the

bridge?'
`I know it well,' said the Mole. `But why should Otter choose to

watch there?'
`Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his first

swimming-lesson,' continued the Rat. `From that shallow,
gravelly spit near the bank. And it was there he used to teach

him fishing, and there young Portly caught his first fish, of
which he was so very proud. The child loved the spot, and Otter

thinks that if he came wandering back from wherever he is--if he
IS anywhere by this time, poor little chap--he might make for

the ford he was so fond of; or if he came across it he'd remember
it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Otter goes there

every night and watches--on the chance, you know, just on the
chance!'

They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing--the
lonely, heart-sore animal, crouched by the ford, watching and